Elven Dreams and Misadventures
by Wandering Minds
Summary: Legolas meets New York. Two girls meet Legolas. For one it isn't the first time. A Legolasoc, Gilgaladoc, plus many others too....Chappy 40 is up!
1. Find a Way

This all came out of a common dislike of screaming to each other over both phone static and a   
lawnmower. And it grew.... Anyhow, no, we don't own the LotR people. That is to say, anything you   
recognize is not ours. But anything you don't, is.  
  
CHAPTER ONE: Find A Way  
The moon was full and white above the emerald leaves of Mirkwood. Endless beauty   
surrounded her, yet she was running, sobbing, swerving wildly through the dark and mysterious   
boles. She was as quick as the silver wind, but he was faster, and he stepped neatly out into the  
path before her.  
"Soft! Why do you run from me? I have done you no wrong. I will do you no wrong."  
"You're gonna go away. I'm going home so I don't have to deal with it," she whispered   
through quiet tears. He wondered why lips crowned with such pearls of sadness seemed so much   
softer and more fair.  
"I have to go. I can't watch you leave." Struggling to free her shoulders from his   
beautiful long-fingered hands, she pleaded, "Let go of me. You're breaking my heart. Elves die of  
broken hearts. Let me go! Please...just let go..."  
"I will never leave you. How can I?" he cried desperately, her plea cutting into his   
heart like no knife could. "I will not go! Wait!"  
She pulled away from him, certain he mocked her. She began to walk away... toward what   
had been home.  
"Wait! I say it once more; hear me: I will not leave. I will stay! Will you not stay as   
well?"  
"Why?" she asked bitterly. "Why should I hold you here? What can I possibly mean to you?"  
"Everything!" he shouted. "Everything, and so much more. I love you!"  
"You lie! You're making fun of me!" she screamed.  
"I love you! Listen to me! If you will not stay with me, then I will journey through the   
worlds after you! I will follow you! I will find a way!"  
Yet she believed him not, and slipped away through the mist. Weeping the longing tears of  
love, he ran after her.  
  
"Andrea! Breakfast!" Sivi called from downstairs. Andrea sat up in bed and blinked. What   
a dream. Knowing she must hurry, or she would be late for her college biology class, she hopped   
onto the carpet and threw on a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt. Mr. Beech had said they would   
be dissecting starfish that day. Nothing like the smell of formaldehyde to help wake one up in   
class. She could not shake the memory of her dream away; it clung to her like a little lost child,  
and she could still hear his vow:  
"I will follow you! I will find a way!" She unknowingly clutched her hand over the small   
drawstring bag that hung from the cord around her neck.  
Loverly, she thought facetiously. Find me in all the stench and filth of New York, and   
we'll have a romantic dinner together.  
"Andrea?" Sivi called.  
"I'm coming," Andrea hollered, jerking a brush through her short, straight,   
copper-colored hair and practically flew down the stairs.  
She slid - a very fun, if dangerous, practice when one is in sock feet on a linoleum   
floor-over to the table and flopped into her chair. Even though her hair was combed and her   
clothes neat, Sivi could tell that Andrea was slightly upset. It was normally Sivi that had the   
horrific nightmares, but this morning, it was Sivi who was concerned.  
"Bad dream?" she asked in a cautious tone.  
"Not exactly," Andrea replied evasively.  
"What was it about?" Sivi pressed. With a sigh, Andrea replied tiredly,  
"The Pretty One."  
"What, you mean Legolas?" Sivi said. "How can you have a bad dream about him?"   
"It's hard… to explain."  
Sivi nodded and let the matter go. Andrea had trouble explaining herself sometimes, and   
Sivi knew better than to frustrate her friend.  
"If you say so," she shrugged. "We've got to get to class. So you'd better hurry and   
eat."  
  
Legolas awoke under a beautiful birch tree on a wide grassy space. The setting seemed   
strangely unfamiliar. He was not paying any attention to his surroundings at that moment,   
however. He was more than a little upset over a dream he had had the night before, and a   
light-hearted elf-prince is not easily made to be upset. He could still remember the ugly night   
when Andrea had run from him, had left him to search in vain for her for so many lonely years.   
Why couldn't he forget her? Why must he have that dream, over and over, every night? For that   
matter, why couldn't he find her? Where could she have hidden from him? Where had he not   
searched?  
At last, Legolas looked up and around, and he frowned. Only Legolas could glare so and   
make himself look wonderful doing it. His surroundings were strange to him. He listened to the   
trees and did not know them. There was such a sense of pain and humiliation in the voices of   
these new trees that the sensitive elf winced. His long, gently curving ears caught sounds that   
he had never heard before. There was an irritating off-key sort of... he could only describe it   
as a purring hum. The place smelled fouler than an orc's den.  
"Where am I?" he asked the air. His voice was light and lovely, yet still becomingly   
masculine.  
"Uh, you'd be in Central Park, Twinkletoes," replied a rough, snidely disrespectful tone   
from behind the tree he was leaning against. Legolas stood, not liking the squat, filthy man his   
falcon-sharp eyes were showing him. He wondered what the newcomer might mean by "Twinkletoes."  
"But, ah, judgin' fr'm the threads an' yer 'aircut, I'd figure you're lucky y'ain't in Atlantic   
City w'a baby doll."  
"I beg your pardon?" Legolas said evenly, determined to be courteous, even if this...   
tramp... was being ever so brazen.  
"Yeh, an' I'll bet you'll be a-beggin' fer more'n 'at, once ya run outta tha' there...   
wull, whatever yer on."  
"Sir, I understand you not, and I like not your tone of voice. Speak to me straight forth  
and honestly. What is this place, and how came I to be here?"  
"Dude, yer askin' th' wrong guy on that'n. All I know is, this 'ere's Central Park, right   
smack'n th' middle o' New York City. You cuhn fin' yer own way fr'm there."  
"Thank you, sir," Legolas said gravely, beginning to be more than annoyed, especially   
when the vagabond burst out laughing and fell over. Deciding he could obviously get no more help   
from the man, Legolas strode purposefully off in the opposite direction. This new place baffled   
him; neither sight, nor sound, nor smell, nor taste - for the venomous scent in the air was so   
heavy that he could feel it on his tongue - seemed at all like anything he knew. He didn't even   
know how he had come to be there; it was a far cry from his soft bed in his father Thranduil's   
palace in Eryn Lasgalen.  
Suddenly, a harsh noise reached him. It sounded like... it hurt Legolas' heart to   
remember what it sounded like. It was the sound that had come from the Horn of Gondor in the   
moment in which it had been cloven. Terrible memories assailed the prince in an anguished   
tempest: Amon Hen.  
  
A white Elven blade clashed with a bloodstained orc-knife, rolled smoothly and expertly   
around and through the long, pale fingers of its handler, found its mark in tough, blistered   
orc-hide, and flew obediently back into its gilded scabbard. Time was counted in the heartbeat of  
a warrior: strong, steady, rhythmic, and pulsing. Fingertips drew an Elvish arrow from a   
gem-encrusted quiver, put it deftly to the string, and the Bow of Galadriel bent. The arrow flew.  
The orc fell.   
Draw the bow; loose the string; move to the right; duck; turn; meet orc-steel with   
elf-steel - the dance went on, a grotesque, never-ending waltz of life and death, fear and   
hopeless courage, blood and battle.  
Then had sung the Horn, and Legolas had turned.  
"The Horn of Gondor!" cried he.  
"Boromir," gasped Aragorn in a voice sick and sickening, a voice without hope. And   
Legolas had watched Estel, Hope now hopeless, fly feverishly to aid his brother of Gondor. Then   
the dance continued without the Ranger, and Legolas resumed the desperate fight.   
Fly, arrow! Fall, orc of Orthanc! Flee this place, creature of Saruman, lest you flee   
this earth ere the sun flees the sky.  
Monster after monster strove with the valiant, nimble elf and lived never after to tell   
the tale of it. The axe of Gimli son of Gloin brought down its share of the creatures meantime.   
As it were on the slopes of Orodruin, victory was indeed at hand, yet ever the corruption of the   
One ripped away the triumphs of the pure, for even as the last orc fell defeated upon the stones   
of the High Seat of Amon Hen, the Horn of Boromir first son of Denethor sounded again.  
"Gimli, after me! Ai Elbereth!"  
"Erebor will avenge Moria! I follow, Legolas! Let us aid Gondor!"  
The swift feet of the elf soon outdistanced the steady but heavy tread of the stocky   
dwarf. The trees and foliage shouted in his ears: "Hurry! Fly!" His feet found their own way as   
with agile leaps and soundswift strides he lunged headlong down the ridge.  
The full, rich aria of Boromir's horn filled the forest, and then breath and blood left   
Legolas as the note twisted into a horrible, garish blaring of noise, as it were a cry of torment.  
The Horn of Gondor was split, and now Legolas' ears took in the hoarse, croaking shouts of orcs,   
the cruel clamour of metal converging, and the desperate cries of Peregrin and Meriadoc.  
Too late, too late, you have lost, you have failed... With a despairing sound of agony,   
the elf plunged through the brush into a wide clearing strewn with the bodies of the hideous foes  
of the Fellowship. There was no sign of the Hobbits, but Aragorn's body was bent over the   
death-pale form of Boromir. Legolas, believing them both to be dead, choked on his sorrow.   
Aragorn glanced up at his friend, and Legolas thanked Aman.  
The eyes of Elessar Estel turned full upon Legolas, profound wells of forlorn passion.   
Then knew Legolas son of Thranduil that Boromir son of Denethor was fallen. Gandalf was gone.   
Boromir was gone. The Hobbits: Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo, all were lost to the three   
remaining of the Company.  
In that instant, as they stared into the eternal depths of sorrow, loss, and futility,   
all the weight of a world doomed to die fell upon the shoulders of a king of Men, a lord of   
Dwarves, and a prince of Elves. Legolas remembered the words of fair Galadriel:  
"The Quest stands upon the edge of a knife; stray but a little and it will fail... to the  
ruin of all."  
The Fellowship had strayed but that little, fallen upon that upturned blade, and been   
torn asunder. What hope was there in all Ea? The Fellowship had failed.   
  
Another such grating horn brought Legolas back to his present. Now, of course, he knew   
that the Fellowship had not failed, though that did not bring bold Boromir back. With a shake of   
his golden hair to dispel the ugly past, Legolas pushed his way though a couple of oaks.. and out  
of everything that comprised any semblance of what had once been his reality.  
Buildings taller than bright Ecthalion lined a road of what seemed to be hardened,   
crusted lava, like the wrath of Orodruin once cooled. On the road - in fact, all along it, were   
machines as ugly as those bred in the bowels of Isengard. There were people within the things;   
the astounded elf could only assume that they must be some sort of carriages or chariots, though   
what pulled them he could not see.  
Two young human women sat talking on a metal bench by the road. Legolas decided to ask   
them for assistance, reasoning that anyone could be more polite than the derisive tramp in the   
park. He strode up swiftly and silently behind them, as is the wont of Elves, then started as he   
realized that both were wearing pants, and that their clothes were made of strange fabrics...   
just as Andrea's had been the day that the soldiers of Thranduil had first brought her in to see   
their prince. He started to speak, then jumped nearly out of his wits when one of the girls   
cocked her head - just so. He knew that gesture. Oh, how many time had he seem it, dreamed of it!  
It couldn't be, and yet... yet, it had to be. It was her. She was just as he remembered her,   
except that this time... he knew what to say.  
  
  
See the review button? Isn't it a pretty button? You love the button. Go on and push it now. You   
can do it! Yay! Push the pretty button! 


	2. Squee Again

"Melamin, I have followed you. I found a way."  
Andrea whirled, her face nearly as pale as his. Her mouth worked frantically, but nothing   
came out. Then she burst into tears. In the midst of her sobs, she uttered a noise quite familiar  
to Legolas; a noise that he had grown so used to while she had been in Mirkwood, and that he had   
even come to miss after she had gone. It was a shriek not unlike that of a Nazgul, but it no   
longer bothered Legolas.  
"Legolas!" she cried desperately, and tackled him. "You came! You really came! You   
followed me!"  
"I-" Legolas was used to this, too: trying to speak while her squeezes forced him to   
battle for breath. "Of... chwourse... hI followed... yo-hou," he managed in a valiant effort. "HI  
swhore to-hoo, di-hidn't hI?"  
The other young woman was by now on her feet. Her expression was half-incredulous,   
half-accepting, but she made a brave attempt at peeling Andrea off of Legolas before he   
suffocated.  
"How did you GET here?" Andrea demanded, clinging even more firmly to her beau, as if by   
doing so, she was preventing him from ever leaving.  
"Hi have nhwo idhee-ha," Legolas replied in the manner of one telling all he knows and   
pleading with the interrogator to cease the torture and skip ahead to the execution.   
"Andrea! He won't be here any more if you strangle him to death!" shouted the other girl   
sharply, still trying to pry Andrea off of the currently bug-eyed elf-prince.   
"Mine!" Andrea squeaked at the top of her generous lungs. Legolas' acute sense of   
hearing was completely overwhelmed; his head swam and his beautiful ears rang. Yet, this, too,   
was a familiar and almost welcome sensation.  
"I know he's yours. I don't want him," the second girl said firmly. "I just don't want   
you to kill him. If you aren't going to let go of him, at least ease off a little. Purple elf   
ears are rather a disturbing sight."  
"I am hurting the Pretty One?" Andrea asked piteously, letting go of Legolas so suddenly   
that he almost toppled over sideways. Her brown were huge and misted. If Legolas assented that,   
yes, she had been hurting him, he and the other girl would have been faced with the challenge of   
subduing a raging torrent of tears. Apparently Andrea's companion knew this just as well as   
Legolas did.  
"I didn't say that," she said sternly. "I said that you might hurt him if you didn't let   
go."  
"A-hactually, it's all right." Legolas admitted. Giving his Squee a smile.  
The flood of tears still looked ominously imminent. Andrea then performed her second   
favorite method of hugging. She slid so delicately into his arms that he could barely feel her,   
then burrowed her face into his shoulder. His arms went round her, O! so tenderly. From somewhere  
in a fold of his jerkin, her muffled voice mumbled something to the effect of:  
"I can't believe you actually followed me."  
"Um, guys," coughed Andrea's friend in an embarrassed tone, "there are some people   
looking at Legolas in a rather surprised, incredulous manner. Perhaps we should postpone the   
reunion until we've gotten him some... I hesitate to say 'normal' garments?"  
Legolas looked up, startled.   
"Have we met?"  
"Ah, no, I apologize. My name is Sivi. I'm Andrea's roommate."  
"You knew my name. How?" Legolas asked.   
"The Quest of the Fellowship of the Ring is well known in our world, but" she paused and   
regarded him as though sizing him up.  
"But?" he pressed. Sivi sighed. Why did she always have to be the bad guy, the bearer of   
bad news?  
"Legolas... in this world, no one believes that the Quest to destroy the One actually   
happened. No one here even believes that the One was actually forged. It's... only a legend."  
Legolas stared at her as a million outraged thoughts filled his mind.  
"What of the Elves in this strange world?" he asked angrily, his arms unconsciously   
tightening around Andrea's shoulders. "Have they no knowledge of or belief in -" He broke off as   
Sivi and Andrea winced simultaneously.  
"Legolas," said Andrea quietly, "there... there aren't any."  
Sivi shook her head as the elf's expression only became more confused. Andrea's effort to  
take her beau's sharp, accusing eyes from Sivi's shoulders had been more than loyal, but...   
Andrea did not want to lay it on the line, say it straight out, and that was what this situation   
really called for. Gingerly, Sivi expounded,  
"To my knowledge, Prince Legolas, you are the first and only elf ever to exist in this   
realm."   
Legolas felt himself grow cold and numb.  
"You lie," he said. It was more of a plea than an accusation.  
"No, she's not lying," Andrea piped up. "No one here believes that elves are real. Until   
you came... they weren't."  
"It's not true," Legolas whispered. Andrea led him worriedly around to sit on the bench.   
Wearily, he sank down beside her.  
"I am... the first," Legolas repeated sadly, unable to believe it.  
"Are you all right?" Sivi asked gently, wishing that they had not had to tell him. Andrea  
fretted and fawned on him, rubbing his arm, kneading his shoulder, and just generally massaged   
the upper left side of his torso.   
"I will be." Legolas said bravely, for Andrea's sake. Pausing, he added, "Is this why you  
said that the passersby watched me so intently?"  
"Well, it's mostly your clothes," Andrea said. "We can fix that.   
"You, uh, might want to cover your ears, though." Sivi sugested.  
"With what?" Legolas asked.  
"Your hair," supplied Sivi. "If we take down your braids, it should serve to hide your   
ear-tips."  
"My... my ears are the only thing that would betray me? I am tall, pale -"  
"Incredibly handsome," Andrea put in, tracing the ear closest to her with her finger.  
"Humans in our world are extremely varied in appearance. There are men as tall as Elves   
and men as short as Hobbits. Very few, but they do exist," Sivi pointed out. "Also, a world that   
does not believe in Elves will not know very much about them. If someone sees you walking down   
the street - in normal apparel - they won't think, 'Is that an Elf?' They'll only think you're...  
different."  
"Do as you will," Legolas nodded.  
Nervously, Sivi undid the delicate, threadlike silver cord that bound the elf-prince's   
intricately woven hair. The morning sun to their left shone in Legolas' hair like a bright, fiery   
mirror. To Sivi, it seemed as if she were working with white-hot gold.  
"Oooooo," Andrea said. "Can I help?"  
With a nod, Sivi moved over so that Andrea could work on one side of the elf's braids   
without stirring from her cherished seat by his side, while Sivi carefully unbraided the opposite   
side. With a sigh, Sivi muttered,  
"This day has been so weird."  
"What is 'weird'?" Legolas asked.  
"Extremely unusual."  
"Ah. Yes," Legolas agreed softly.  
Suddenly, Sivi giggled. Legolas, unsure of what was so amusing, sat still. Andrea cocked   
her head and watched Sivi's giggles seem to bubble over the widespread fingers that held them   
back. Privately, Legolas thought that Sivi was laughing so hard that she nearly resembled his   
own Squee.  
"I'm so sorry," Sivi gasped amidst her laughter.  
"Share!" Andrea demanded.  
Share what? Legolas thought.  
"I can't... I can't," Sivi burbled.  
In reality, she had been trying to imagine an elf in jeans, a T-shirt, and Nike's   
drinking Pepsi and eating Domino's... maybe even wearing a ball cap. It was too hilarious to   
think about.  
"What is funny?" Andrea asked insistently.  
"I can't... tell you," Sivi repeated, wiping her eyes.  
"Sivi," Andrea said.  
"Le lutin en vetements d'Etates Unis," Sivi said in French. Literally, it meant, "The elf   
in clothes of the United States."  
"What's a 'lutin'?" Andrea asked blankly. Sivi had never wanted to smack her friend quite  
so hard.  
"Je vais dire toi a peu pres," she said warningly: "I will tell you a little later."  
"Pardon, Lady Sivi," Legolas said quietly. "Am I the butt of some joke?" Sighing, Sivi   
put a hand on his arm.  
"I meant no discourtesy, Prince Legolas," she said earnestly. "It is hard to imagine one   
of your kind in the garments of our world."  
Then Legolas began to laugh, a simple symphony all the more pleasing for the carefree and  
joyous expression on the elf-prince's smooth white face.  
"Is it hard for you?" he asked. "How much harder is it for me, think you?" Sivi smiled,   
and their friendship was solidified. She was certainly no threat to Andrea, but she would from   
then on be counted among his closest companions.  
"I don't know," she answered, "but difficult or not, we have to do it. Andrea, are you   
almost finished?"  
Giggling herself, Andrea nodded,  
"Yep. I'm done."  
"Well, Prince Legolas," Sivi said, patting his shoulder with a wide grin, "let's see how   
a noble son of Eryn Lasgalen handles the shopping centers of New York City." 


	3. It Rings

"Dad? I know this is highly irregular - yes, I know those are weird words, but our lit.   
profess - no. No, I know. Daddy, please, I know it's weird, but please can you come to the mall?   
Yes, the mall. Now. No, right now. Please, Daddy; it's an emergency. I can't explain it right now,   
I just really, really need you to come. Thanks, Daddy; you're the best. I love you too. Bye."   
Hanging up the payphone, Sivi looked at Andrea and Legolas, the latter of whom was staring   
at the phone with an immensely intent expression. Though he had not told the two girls, he had   
committed to memory the number that Sivi had dialed. Those numbers were apparently a simple spell  
that would allow him to speak with Sivi's father whenever he needed to do so. Legolas wondered if  
they would teach him how to communicate with his own father Thranduil.  
"Daddy's on his way," Sivi announced in a tone of relief.  
"Why do we need your Dad here?" Andrea asked. She was rather of the opinion that a parent on  
the scene would only ruin any fun the girls might have with the Pretty One. I.E. "Elves don't eat  
Japanese food.", or "Don't make him wear that leather jacket.", or "Do NOT highlight his   
hair!" She also retained the stubborn feeling that Legolas was her elf, her secret. Sivi glared   
at Andrea.  
"Alors, nous ne pouvons pas aider le lutin en les chambres de vetements," she told Andrea   
pointedly. She didn't know the word for "dressing rooms," but "rooms of clothes," seemed close   
enough.  
"I told you, I don't know what a 'lutin' is," Andrea said.  
"Le lutin est le..." Sivi thought hard. "Il est ici. Il est le fils d'un roi et reine, le   
prince." She made her accent as oddly French as possible so that Legolas would not catch the   
word "prince."  
"Oh, you mean..." Andrea's eyes strayed to Legolas, who had decided over an hour earlier   
that the girls were harmless, and if they wanted to speak in odd tongues, more power to them.   
(Though I am sure his phrasing was a bit different). He had meandered over to examine the   
payphone. A meandering elf is an interesting spectacle.  
"Qu'est-ce que fait-il?" Andrea asked softly. ("What's he doing?")  
Legolas picked up the receiver and looked at it.  
"Oh, let him fiddle with it," Sivi whispered. "He's not hurting anything."  
Then, Legolas did a strange thing. He began to dial.  
"Um... Lego..." Andrea said, but he did not appear to be listening. The girls watched in   
half-amusement, half-amazement as Legolas Greenleaf dialed 1-800-COLLECT and paused. Then he   
dialed a phone number. Not Sivi's Dad's cell-phone number, but a phone number he seemed to be   
making up out of his head. He put the receiver to his long ear, and waited...  
  
"Lady Galadriel! Lady Galadriel!" cried a young elf-maiden, running like dark-haired   
lightning up the spiral staircase around the great tree at Caras Galadon.  
"Calmly, softly, child," said the beautiful Lady of Light, coming to meet the girl halfway.   
Out of breath, the maiden gasped,  
"Your mirror is ringing."  
"What?"  
"The Mirror of Galadriel rings!"  
"I will go and see this thing," Galadriel said, curious.  
It was rather a long walk to the sheltered clearing where the mirror stood, but when   
Galadriel had descended the grey stone steps, the mirror was indeed still ringing loudly.   
Intrigued, Galadriel gazed searchingly into the silver basin, but the clear water was blank.   
"I am come," she said hesitantly. A pleasant voice spoke from within the waters:   
"Will you accept billing charges for a collect call from 'Legolas Greenleaf'?"   
Steeling herself against the unknown, Galadriel said evenly,  
"I will."  
The waters shimmered and rippled into a vision of Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen holding to his   
ear a strange device.   
"My lady?" he said, speaking into the lower half of the contraption.  
"Prince Legolas... I am not certain I understand," Galadriel replied.  
"Whoa, did he actually call somebody?" said one of two young human women standing behind the   
elf-prince.  
"It would appear so," replied the other.  
"I hope he didn't, like, call Palestine or anything," said the first girl in a nervous   
giggle. "If he just called Yasser Arafat 'my lady', we're in big trouble."  
Legolas gave the girls a look of confusion, then turned back to the metal box hanging on   
the wall. From the box, a silver rope that was not hithlain attached itself and the box to an   
odd-shaped black stick in Legolas' hand. Galadriel was utterly bewildered.  
"My lady, I have somehow been transported to a world not at all like ours," Legolas   
explained hesitantly. "Can you, will you, send word to my father that I am safe but cannot yet   
return to him?"   
"I will indeed," agreed Galadriel, "but when you are safely returned to us, you must tell me   
how this summons is accomplished."  
"I would tell you now if only I knew myself, Lady Galadriel," Legolas replied.  
"Galadriel?" cried the girl who had earlier been worried about 'Yasser Arafat.' "May I talk   
to her? Oooo, lemme talk, lemme talk, lemme -"   
"Ah, my lady, my friend Andrea wishes to hold discourse with you."   
"I will speak with her then," Galadriel replied.  
The girl called Andrea grabbed the stick from Legolas and pressed it to her ear.  
"Lady Galadriel?" she said hopefully.  
"I am pleased to know you, young Andrea," Galadriel said regally. Andrea proceeded to squeal  
loudly in the elf-queen's snow-white ear. She whirled to look at the other girl.  
"Sivi! Sivi! I'm on the phone with Galadriel!" she cried, hopping up and down.   
"That's wonderful, Andrea," the one called Sivi, apparently slightly older than Andrea, said  
with a small smile. "Perhaps you should talk to her."  
"Oh, yeah, um," and Andrea turned back to the box, "um, it's nice to know you, too," she   
said shyly. "Hey, do you have any idea how the Pretty One got here?"  
Galadriel saw Legolas cringe. Confused, the queen asked,  
"The Pretty One?"  
"Oh, I mean Legolas," Andrea explained brightly.  
"I... am afraid I do not," Galadriel told the girl, liking Andrea's unpretentious attitude.  
"Oh, so I don't guess you could send us some more pretty elves for Sivi?" Anna said   
disappointedly. Legolas frowned, while Sivi choked.   
"I can handle my own love life, thank you," she told Andrea harshly.  
"If you require the services of my people, I will do my best to send them to your aid,"   
Galadriel replied.  
"Well, we don't exactly require their services, but, uh, if you could..." Andrea trailed off  
sheepishly.  
"I will do what I can," Galadriel promised.  
"Um, thank you... uh, I'm running up your phone bill, so I guess I'd better go," Andrea said.  
"Goodbye."  
"Goodbye, young Andrea," said Galadriel, puzzled. She did not know what a 'phone bill' was,   
and Andrea did not appear to be 'running' anywhere. Andrea placed the stick on a wide metal hook   
on the face of the box. The image in the mirror faded away.  
Galadriel shook her white-blonde tresses. Well, she had made the girl a promise. She must   
set to work performing it.  
"My lady?" said a timid voice from the stair-like steps leading down to the mirror's little   
dell. Galadriel looked up to see the same black-haired maiden standing on the bank above her.  
"Child, will you send for the brothers Rumil, Orophin, and Haldir who guard the northern   
border? And... who here in Lorien is swift of foot? Tell them to make ready for a journey to   
Eryn Lasgalen. If they may make the trek on horseback, so much the better. Say to my Lord   
Celeborn that I would speak with him. Quickly!"  
  
Haldir sighed and scanned the bright line of silver mallorn trunks. Another day with nothing  
to report. Haldir preferred peace to war, of course, but he also preferred occupation to   
inactivity. Especially when Rumil and Orophin were sparring.  
"You're slipping," Rumil told his brother in Elvish.  
"No, I saw it. Aiya! There is another," Orophin countered.  
An elf knows he is bored, reflected Haldir, when he stoops to amusing himself by counting   
squirrels.  
Ignoring his siblings, Haldir turned his mind to his fiancée, Unoldiel. He was mainly   
marrying her simply to keep his father happy. Oh, she was pretty enough, but she was... he did   
not know the proper term. Had he been raised in the world of Sivi and Andrea, he would have   
called her a ditz. 


	4. Pepsi

Chapter 4: Adventures with Pepsi  
"Okay, what's the big emergency?" Joseph asked his daughter Sivi. He had had the logic to   
look for her by the payphones, where she had had the logic to stay. Eyeing Legolas, Joseph added,  
"And while I grant you that he rates being called a fashion emergency, I hope that's not why  
you called me at work." Andrea looked about to protest that his clothes were pretty, but then  
thought it better to remain silent.  
"It sort of is and kind of isn't," Sivi said, pulling her father away from Legolas and   
Andrea. "Daddy... um, my friend..." she pointed nervously at Legolas, hoping her father would   
believe her. "My friend is an elf, and, well... people are staring, and, uh, we - me and Andrea -  
can't go with him into the dressing rooms, but I, uh, don't think he knows much about jeans,   
socks, or tennis shoes, so if you could..."  
Sivi's dad was the one person who could make Sivi stutter. Not even Legolas had been able to  
pull it off. Joseph had always told his daughter that the first guy in her life, besides himself,  
to make her stammer would be her husband.  
"So you want me to help him into some less archaic clothing, is that it?" Sivi nodded.  
"Please, Daddy? We can't let anyone know he's an elf." Shaking his head with a broad grin,   
Joseph replied,  
"Sure, why not? You and your weird friends."   
It was like Joseph not to see the entire thing as incredible. He was rather laid back and   
took things in stride if at all possible.  
"Daddy, thank you so much! I just, uh, I... am going to shut up before I make an even bigger  
fool of myself."  
Joseph hugged his daughter close.  
"I love you, Pumpkin."  
"I love you, too, Daddy."  
"Now, then, let's go fix the fashion emergency," Joseph laughed.  
  
An hour later, Legolas was leaning back against the window of a store in dark denim jeans, a  
soft hunter-green turtle-neck, and a pair of Timberland's. His hair was bound in a loose   
pony-tail so as to cover his long, pale ears. Andrea and Joseph were arguing over whether or not   
to try to use stage make-up to darken the elf's complexion. Oddly enough, it was Joseph who   
supported this "tan" and Andrea who opposed it.  
"He looks sick," Joseph said.  
"He's not sick! He's gorgeous!" Andrea cried unhappily. "Elves can't get sick."  
"I know that," said Joseph, "and you know that, but the average New Yorker -"  
"Doesn't care!" Andrea interrupted. "We're in New York, Mr. Joseph. Weird is normal, and   
normal is weird."  
With a sigh, Joseph conceded the point. Legolas fidgeted. He leaned over and asked Sivi in a  
quiet, humble tone:  
"Pardon, Lady Sivi; what hour is it?"  
"Um, it's a little after noon," Sivi replied, checking her watch. "Why do you ask?"  
"Ah, m'lady, when and where in this vast city does one, well, take one's meals?"  
"Oh, Legolas, I'm so sorry! Hey-la, Daddy, how about we go for lunch?"  
"Sounds good to me," Joseph replied easily. "We need to feed the elf, I take it?"  
"I do not mean to make myself a burden, sir," Legolas protested, but Joseph laughed and   
slapped the prince's back.  
"You are not a burden, friend."  
"My Pretty One is hungry!" cried Andrea. "Let us feed my Pretty One!"  
"Sir, I have a question," Legolas said as the group exited the store. "I... know why Andrea   
refers to me as hers, as her Pretty One. Why is it that you always refer to me as 'the elf'? Have  
I not made know to you my name?"  
"I know your name," Joseph chuckled. "I just can't pronounce it." Legolas blinked, but let  
the subject drop.  
Joseph led the girls and the elf through the crowds and down to the food court.  
"Is this OK?" he asked over his shoulder, but Legolas was not listening. The elf had stopped  
in front of a large, round gumball machine.  
"What is this brightly colored palantir?" he asked curiously.  
"That would be a gumball machine," Joseph said with an indulgent smile. "You put a coin in   
the little slot, turn the knob, and a piece of gum comes out the hole near the base."  
"Gum?" Legolas frowned.  
"It's a small, uh, snack," Andrea explained: "Something you chew between meals."  
"Ready to go?" Joseph asked. The elf nodded.  
"This is the food court," Sivi explained. "Court is shortened from courtyard. It just means   
a fairly open space. What would you like to eat? If you want chicken, we can go to Chik-fil-A; or  
if you'd like something seasoned a little sweeter, with mushrooms, we can go to one of the   
Chinese places."  
"Do you like spicy foods?" Andrea asked, picking up where her friend left off. "If you do,   
we should go to a Mexican place. Or -" She stopped and grinned. Smiling innocently, she asked,  
"Would you like to try pizza, my Pretty One?"  
"What is it?" Legolas asked, feeling helpless and overwhelmed.  
"Pizza," Sivi replied, "is a thick (or thin, if you'd prefer) piece of bread covered with   
tomato sauce and cheese. If you want, you can ask them to add small squares of meats like ham,   
sausage, pepp - you don't know what pepperoni is, do you? It's very good. You can have them put   
little slices of mushrooms on your pizza, or olives, onions, peppers, or even chicken." She did   
not mention anchovies.  
"I will try it," Legolas said, curious and nervous. He trusted his friends, and especially   
his love, but could not help thinking that their tastes might be quite different from his.  
"What do you want on your pizza?" asked Joseph.  
"Ah... since Lady Sivi recommends this... pepperoni, I will try it... What goes well with...  
pepperoni?"  
"Personally," said Sivi, "I prefer meat on my pizza. I like ham, sausage, pepperoni, and   
mushrooms." Andrea nodded agreement. Joseph grinned.  
"I'm a vegetable-pizza-person myself, but what the girls are suggesting is good."  
"Then that is what I will eat, please it you," Legolas nodded.  
"Kay-kee-dokee," said Joseph. "Legolas," he added, trying the elf's name for the first time   
and doing a fair job with it, "I don't think we can explain soft drinks to you. May I just order   
you a Pepsi?"  
"This Pepsi is a 'soft drink'? Very well."  
"All right, you guys go sit down and I'll order for us all," Joseph instructed.  
Sivi and Andrea led Legolas to one of the small metal tables and showed him how to scoot his   
chair back and forth without making too much noise. It amused Andrea to think that she was   
teaching an elf how to be quiet. He sat silently, observing his surroundings carefully.  
"What sort of trees are those?" he asked, pointing with one clean white finger across the   
court.  
"Hmm? Oh, those are potted palms," Sivi replied absently.  
"Why are they kept in pots?"  
"I guess so they can have them in here to make the place look nice. They can't let them just  
grow out of the floor," Andrea said.  
"Why not?"  
Fortunately, Andrea did not have to reply, for Joseph strode cheerfully up to the table with  
their food. Legolas resisted the urge to sniff the food in distrust. The four bowed their heads   
and said a prayer.  
Sivi and Andrea picked up their pizza slices with their hands and munched with a will.   
Joseph cut his with an oddly shaped utensil that Legolas had never seen before. Legolas copied   
Joseph's example and resolutely popped a bite of pizza into his mouth.  
The medley of flavors shocked the elf, and the texture was perfect. He had never tasted   
anything in his life quite like this... pizza. Belatedly, he realized that Andrea was watching   
him. Swallowing politely, Legolas said,  
"It tastes very good, Melamin."  
Squee squealed again, and Sivi shushed her.  
"My Pretty One likes pizza!" Squee exulted, not quite yelling. "Try Pepsi!" she urged.   
Legolas felt a bit cornered. He did not want to disappoint his Squee, but he was not at all   
certain how the Pepsi would taste. If he didn't care for it, how should he tell her so? He picked  
up his glass, ignoring the slender tube floating in the bubbling brown drink. He closed his   
large, deep eyes and sipped sparingly.  
Pepsi, Legolas decided later, was a sensation rather than a drink; it was a sensation of   
half-burning, part wild bubbling, and part sweetness. It provoked a rush of pure energy to his   
brain.   
Andrea poked him in an attempt to bring him back to reality. Worriedly, she noted that his   
eyes were severely dilated, and that his ears had gone so white as to be nearly translucent. She   
decided that Pepsi might not be such a good idea in the future.  
"Pretty One? You are feeling well, yes?" she said urgently.  
Legolas - Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen - giggled hysterically.  
"Not good!" cried Andrea, jumping up. "Mr. Joseph-"  
"Hey, guys!" said a new voice. Andrea and Sivi turned to see a smiling brown-eyed redhead   
and a frowning blue-eyed blonde.  
"Sarah! Christina! Help! The Pretty One is -"Andrea cried, but once again, Sivi shushed her.  
"Sar, Christi, we need to go, now!" Sivi told her cousin Sarah, the redhead, and her friend   
Christina, the blonde.  
"Yeah, I thought there might be something wrong with pretty boy," Christina replied with a   
dry grin.  
"Is your car any closer than the west lot?" Sivi asked calmly.  
"Yes, we're right next to the nearest entrance," Christina answered, still amused. "Your   
soccer-player cousin doesn't like to walk any more than she has to. Speaking of which, Pretty Boy  
is on his feet and about not to be."  
Christina was correct. Legolas had stood up and was swaying slightly on his feet. Christina,  
who had been around Andrea long enough to know exactly who the 'Pretty One' denoted, was fully   
aware of Legolas' identity. She was surprised but ever collected.  
"The strongest wines of Dorwinion couldn't faze him," she mused, "but one little sip of   
Pepsi, and he's completely intoxicated."  
"Whoa; OK, let's get him to Christina's car," said Joseph, supporting the teetering elf with  
a palm between Legolas' shoulder-blades.  
"Can we all fit in your vehicle?" he asked Christina. She nodded and grabbed Legolas' hand,   
pulling him toward the exit.  
"Man, I wouldn't give him any more soft drinks, if I were you," Sarah advised with a laugh.  
"Did you two see what happened, then?" asked Sivi, pushing Sarah, who, like her uncle and   
cousin, was quite tall, up by Legolas' right side.  
"Yeah. What are you doing?"  
"Stay in front of him on that side so no one will see him. Act natural," Sivi commanded.   
Sarah shrugged and did as bid.  
"Daddy, you get on his left; Christina's in front; Andrea and I will be back here."  
Legolas snickered and tripped over Sarah's foot.  
"Won't this look sort of weird?" Christina asked skeptically.  
"No," Joseph said mildly; "It'll just look like a knot of friends leaving the mall. It would  
look a lot weirder if we were scattered a bit, leading a drunk 'teen' by the hand."  
"Is he really drunk?" Andrea asked in disbelief. Legolas began to hiccup wildly.  
"You tell me," Christina quipped.   
  
OooooOOooooh...button... 


	5. Wakeeeeee Wakeeeee

Legolas blinked, trying to analyze the sharp pain in the side of his head. His bright, sharp   
eyes that had never failed him in the past would not focus. He did not know where he was. He was   
not sure he *wanted* to know.  
'Hey-la, Prince Legolas,' said a smooth, earthy baritone. 'Can you hear me?' A dark-skinned   
face appeared before Legolas' wildly blinking eyes. It was blurred, though still discernible.  
'I can,' he replied, and his own voice sounded strange to him, faint and faded.   
'How do you feel?' asked the newcomer in a kind tone.  
'My sight...' Legolas managed, frightened lest whatever was wrong with him should not go away.  
'Blurry? Fuzzy? It's all right. It'll all get better, I promise.'  
'What is wrong with me?'  
'The stranger laughed a little. 'The girls accidentally got you drunk, friend. Apparently,   
carbonated beverages have the same effect on elves as alcohol does on humans.'  
'Who are you?' the elf asked.  
'My name's Jeremie,' the stranger replied. 'D'you remember Joseph?'  
'Yes, and Sivi and Andrea.'  
'OK, well, I'm a friend of Sivi's. I'm in her drama course at the college.'  
'I take it you know who I am,' Legolas said, struggling to sit up out of courtesy. The surface  
beneath him was cushiony and springy, but altogether too soft for the elf's tastes. His slender   
hands sank into the substance and provided next to no support.  
'Lie back,' Jeremie commanded.  
Humbled by his weakness, Legolas obeyed. 'Where are Sivi and Andrea?' he asked. He refused to   
believe that the friends who had been so kind to him would have left him alone with strangers.  
'They're in the next room, talking with Sarah and Christina,' Jeremie answered soothingly.  
'Who are Sarah and Christina?'  
'Sarah is Sivi's first cousin, and Christina is another girl in our drama course. Christina is  
the one who drove you here.'  
'She is a charioteer?' Legolas asked.  
'Not...well...kind of; sort of; not exactly.'  
'As you say,' Legolas conceded, not wanting a complicated explanation that would surely only   
double the thundering in his head. 'Where am I?'  
'You are in Joseph's apartment.'  
'Where is Joseph?' Legolas inquired, hungry for a familiar face, though he was likening Jeremie   
very much.  
'He's not home from his job yet. He works third shift. You don't know what third shift is. Uh,   
he works at his trade from ten-thirty in the evening to seven o'colck in the morning. It's just   
now seven, so he'll be home in about an hour, if traffic is decent.'  
'Why does he work at night?'  
'Well, the machines he uses have to be working all day and all night, so there are some people   
who run them during the first part of the day, some people who run them during the mid-afternoon   
to mid-evening hours, and different people who run them at night.' Jeremie explained as plainly   
as he could.  
'I think I see,' Legolas sighed, settling back into the overly pliant bedding. He blinked a   
few times, relieved to find that his spectacular elven eyesight was slowly but steadily returning.  
He studied Jeremie's face: dark brown skin, wide, dark oval eyes, a pleasant mouth, and   
black hair cut incredibly short. A connection formed in the elf's mind.  
I saw your portrait at the mall yesterday.' he told Jeremie solemnly. 'A startling well-painted  
likeness.'  
Jeremie refrained from trying to tell the elf about cameras.  
'My portrait?' he asked instead.  
'Either yours or your elder brothers,' Legolas answered. Jeremie blinked. He didn't have any   
brothers, and he didn't remember having his portrait done or his picture taken at the mall.  
Then Legolas solved the mystery for him by continuing: 'under the painting was written in odd,   
bulky characters, 'Will Smith.' Do you not know him?' Jeremie managed, by the tearing of several   
muscles, not to laugh.  
'I'm flattered, Legolas,' said he, 'but I'm not related to Will Smith. He is a famous...um...  
troubadour.'  
'You look a good deal like him,' Legolas said.  
'Thank you.' Jeremie said.  
They talked for a while longer, until Joseph came home. Jeremie then explained that he would   
go to a market called 'Hardees' and bring back breakfast. Joseph concurred, but instructed   
Jeremie not to bring home any Coke's or Pepsi's. Jeremie nodded emphatically.  
  
Will write for reviews. 


	6. The Lawnmower

Here it is, the chapter that is the origin of our wonderfully senseless fic! I am   
ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy, or EHAB for short. Special thanks to our reviewers of Chapter Five!   
Psycho: AutumnBurgundy thanks Kitsune! Broken sentences much fun! No sense for Pepsi, Phe-Chan,   
or EHAB! Galadriel: Have written more! Now you read, read! Please, please? Punk: Thanks. I like   
Cherry Coke, but I have never gotten drunk off of it. Without further ado, Chapter Six... "How It  
All Began," or "The Lawnmower."  
  
Two hours later, after Legolas had been introduced to the savory qualities of biscuits   
and gravy, he was permitted to take a walk outside the apartment. Sarah and Sivi went with him   
to keep him safe, pointing out things like, why one should look both ways before crossing the   
paved field called the "parking lot." (After watching a few "cars" roar through the lot at   
unthinkable speeds, Legolas saw the sense in his friends' advice.)  
A middle-aged woman called to Sivi from a few buildings down. Sivi smiled and waved, but   
the woman motioned for Sivi to come and talk to her. Sivi sighed.  
"That's Mimi," she said. "I don't think that Legolas is quite ready for Mimi. She's a   
bit... odd." She turned to Legolas. "Can you stay out here and not get run over or anything until  
we come back?"  
Legolas nodded. Sivi sighed nervously and shifted her weight. She nodded resolutely.  
"C'mon, Sar," she said. "Legolas, we'll be back as soon as we can."  
"At your leisure, m'ladies," Legolas said with a formal bow.  
As the girls walked away, Legolas engaged himself in studying the apartments across the   
lot. At first, nothing seemed any more unnatural than what the elf had already experienced or   
witnessed in this singular place. The apartments were all the same, an occasional car careened   
dangerously through the parking lot, and a woman half-ran, half-bounced along the sidewalk. Sivi   
had told him that such odd behavior was called "jogging."  
Then, Legolas heard an odd noise. It was not a car, but like; it was a deep, not   
altogether unpleasant, thrumming throb. A woman about Sivi's age and height turned the corner   
from one of the apartments' side yards into its front yard, riding a squat, ugly beast in full   
armor. The creature was mutilating the grass and spewing it out a hole in its side. The woman   
did not appear to be happy about her task. The only assumption Legolas could make was that the   
girl was a slave. He would slay the beast and free her.  
A moment later, he saw his chance. The creature stopped and fell silent as a car pulled   
up to the sidewalk. The girl went over to speak with the people in the car, looking both ways,   
Legolas swiftly crossed the street and darted behind a tree. He did not think the thing had seen   
him. He stepped out in front of the beast, thinking it only fair that the creature have some slim  
chance to defend itself. A few yards away, the thing sat still, arrogant and hideous. Furious,   
Legolas took aim.  
  
"Anyway, so Phil and I went to the concert together, but I was really looking for George,  
and this one musician down in the orchestra pit, well he made the most awful noise, and -" Sivi   
tuned out the older woman's chatter. Sarah smiled politely. The younger girls were catching, at   
best, only snatches of Mimi's random conversation.  
Suddenly, Mimi's relentless torrent of gossip slowed.  
"Isn't that your young friend?"  
Sivi and Sarah sat straight up and followed Mimi's gaze out the older woman's window.   
"Why does he have that bow and that arrow-carrying-thingy?" Mimi asked.  
"Uh, he's on an archery team," Sivi said, hoping that King Thranduil's garrison would   
count as a "team." "We let him carry it because, uh..."   
"He's captain," Sarah supplied. Prince, captain, same thing, she thought defensively.  
"Oh, how nice," Mimi said. "What's he doin' with it?"   
"Um... Sivi, should we go...?"  
"He wouldn't."  
"He's gonna."  
"He couldn't."  
"He's drawing the string."  
"There's no way."  
"There goes the arrow..."  
"He didn't!"   
FOOM.  
"Well," said Sarah, her beautiful brown eyes having gone from ovals to spheres, "on a   
scale of one to ten, one being spark, and ten being the point at which gases turn to plasmas,   
I'd give that particular fireball a nine point three."  
  
Legolas had never before encountered a creature that vomited fire in its death throes.   
Its cheap metal armor flew in pieces through the air. A bonfire consumed its remains. The girl   
screamed in fear, then screamed at Legolas:  
"What did you do to my lawnmower?!"  
  
  
Phe-chan wants you to press the button...pwease? 


	7. Return to Lorien

I am ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy, or EHAB. Special thanks to the reviewers of Chapter Six, and to   
Rissa, who reviewed Chapter Five but was accidentally left out in our previous chapter's footnote.  
Rissa, thank you, you are most kind. Psycho, I hope nothing was damaged in your cake/dryer   
accident, but thank you all the same. Europa, just FYI, you probably already know this, but   
Europa is Jupiter's third largest moon. Thanx for reviewing J . Wicked Lady... um, I am glad you   
liked, but I enjoy the Pretty One's face more than his clothes, lol. Pepsi harms "lle Vanya Elda"  
(by the by, Vanya is a race of Elves; if you want to say 'pretty' in Elvish it's 'vana'. Just   
trying to be helpful.) because carbonation goes through an elf's bloodstream doing the same   
damage as alcohol does to a human's. Ringo, thank you, and congratulations on the best spelling   
of "cool" I've seriously ever seen! "Kewl"! I love it! Grimlock, I am flattered, and so is   
Phe-Chan. Vana, the FOOM has to be my favorite part, and I'm glad you like it what stories do you  
write? I'd love to read one, if it hasn't anything... um... over PG-13 in it. Cindy, thanks, I   
appreciate it. Romeninque, that was exactly the compliment we were hoping for; thank you very   
much!  
  
At any rate, now that I've bored you to tears, allow me to say a   
few things about Chapter Seven. This is what I have termed a "Bridge   
Chapter," meaning that it is short and hopefully sweet but contains   
vital information about the story's plot. If you don't read this,   
you'll miss the point of the whole thing. We have dubbed this "Chapter   
Seven: Return to Lorien." Please turn off all cell phones, pagers, and   
the like, and remember that smoking is not permitted in the theatre.   
Enjoy the show.  
  
  
Some time later, after somehow managing to convince the authorities that Legolas was NOT an   
international terrorist, the small group (excluding Mimi, who had refused to come near Legolas)   
tried to catch their breath in Joseph's apartment.  
"Man, elf-dude, what was the business, you tryin' to blow up a lawnmower?" Christina asked.  
"'Trying'?" Joseph murmured.  
"We do not have these 'lawnmowers' in Mirkwood. The girl seemed distressed," Legolas said   
quietly understanding nothing except the fact that he had apparently made an end of something not  
meant to be slain.  
"It's okay. You didn't know," Joseph said kindly. "A lawnmower is a machine. It helps us keep  
the grass cut so that the lawn looks nice."  
"The woman looked distressed," Christina added, much more gently, "because she's out there   
doin' hard work. She's not in pain; she's not a prisoner; she's just tired."  
"And upset because you just blew her tractor sky high," Sarah laughed. She whistled. "Man."  
"Tractor?" Legolas frowned.  
"If it isn't exactly the same, it's very nearly the same thing as a lawnmower," Jeremie   
explained.  
A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. Joseph got up to answer, and a moment later,  
the girl in question walked into the room. Her long blonde hair was tied back, and her grey-blue   
eyes were wide.  
"Megan!" cried Sivi, rushing over to greet her friend. Megan stared at Legolas past Sivi's   
shoulder.  
"Why did you destroy my lawnmower?" she asked incredulously.  
"That was your lawnmower, Megan?" Jeremie asked, startled.  
" 'Was' being the operative word, yes," Megan said faintly.  
"My apologies, Lady Megan," Legolas said, standing and bowing. "I thought you were...   
oppressed."  
" 'Oppressed'?" Megan repeated. " 'Lady'? Who is he?"  
"Legolas is an elf, the Prince of Mirkwood," Sivi explained. Megan took a second look and   
nearly fainted.  
"He's also MINE!" Andrea reminded everyone loudly.  
"Lady Sivi," Legolas said, the tips of his ears a funny colour after Andrea's possessive   
claim, "you led me to believe that those facts should be kept a guarded secret, yet you are   
telling everyone we meet."  
"No, I'm telling the people I know I can trust," Sivi countered. "Megan has been my best   
friend all my life. For instance, I didn't tell Mimi."  
"Mimi the Gossip would have had it all over New York City by this time tomorrow," Sarah   
smirked.  
"Also, while you were, um, inebriated," Sivi continued, "Dad's friends Karen and Derek came   
over. (I don't know why; they knew he was at work.) We didn't tell them, either, though they were   
mightily curious. I don't know what got into Karen," she added with a small giggle; "she stood   
right there in front of Derek, her boyfriend, and said out loud, 'Wow, he's gorgeous.'"  
"Yeh-yah," drawled Christina, "and then Andrea started in with her little, 'MINE! MINE! MINE!'  
routine and freaked everyone out."  
"Well, he IS," Andrea pouted.  
"May I sit down?" Megan asked.  
Upon receiving permisssion, she sank wearily onto the sofa beside Jeremie.  
"An elf shot my tractor."  
The phone rang, and Megan answered automatically.  
"An elf shot my tractor," she said robotically. "Yeah sure, you can talk to him. Here,   
Legolas, it's for you."  
Galadriel had hesitated when the girl who had answered her call was not Andrea or Sivi and   
certainly was not Legolas. She had asked the mirror, with the manipulation of Nenya, to find   
Legolas. Then the girl had mentioned an elf... though what a tractor was was beyond the Lady of   
Light... and Galadriel had relaxed.  
"Prince Legolas, greetings," she said.  
"My lady," he replied with fitting deference. "What do you require?"  
"Your presence, young prince," Galdriel answered. "My lord Celeborn and I have discussed the   
matter, and we believe that I may bring you here using Nenya. The powers of the Three are grown   
greater since the One was destroyed."  
"My lady, I..." Legolas trailed off, digesting the idea. "My friends here have been good to   
me, my lady," he said finally. "I do not wish to abandon them so suddenly."  
Andrea's face contorted in dismay. She hugged her knees to her chin and whispered in a small,   
sad voice,  
"My Pretty One is leaving?"  
"If they agree to it," Galadriel offered, "I will bring them, too, but you must come quickly.  
Something horrible has happened here." With a frown, Legolas looked round at his companions.  
"Will the seven of you come to Middle-Earth with me?"  
Andrea fainted.  
At last, after all the fuss of running around to evryone's respective apartments to get all   
the necessary toiletries (Galadriel had promised to provide them with apparel more suited to   
Middle-Earth than what the teens' wardrobes contained), the group had returned to Joseph's   
living room. Legolas had dialed Galadriel's number. The Queen of Lorien had then very neatly   
transported them to the Golden Wood. She and Celeborn received them warmly, but with a sense of   
urgency.  
"Narya and Vilya have been stolen," Celeborn told them solemnly, "but we do not know who by.   
We wanted the Fellowship to band together once more to find the two missing rings, but Aragorn   
cannot leave his kingdom unattended. He would leave Gondor in the hands of faramir until he could   
return, but strange things and beasts have begun again to show themselves along the border   
between Gondor and what once was Mordor. Faramir has his hands full. Boromir is dead, Gandalf   
cannot be found, and Gimli's people will not allow him to take part in this quest, saying that it  
concerns not the dwarves but the Elves alone. The four hobbits... we have not been able to   
contact them."  
"I guess that just leaves you, Elf-dude," said Christina, in a voice without emotion.  
"And us," said Sivi grimly.  
"What can we do?" asked joseph, taking everything in stride as usual.  
"That I cannot tell you," Celeborn answered sadly. "I do not know."  
"Hey, I've got an idea," Sarah said. "Why don't we just go back in time to when the rings   
were made and get the guy that made them to let us have them? That way, they can't be stolen   
today."  
Galadriel looked at the slender young redhead with new respect.  
"I had not thought of that."  
"Indeed, a plan well-conceived, if it may be carried out," Celeborn agreed.  
"Why not?" Jeremie mused. "If Nenya can bring us back and forth between worlds, why not back   
and forth between times?"  
"Sounds like a piece of cake to me," Christina shrugged.  
"Christina, m'dear," Sivi said, looking cynically at her older friend, "nothing in   
Middle-Earth is ever a piece of cake."  
"We have cake in Middle-Earth," Galadriel said.  
"Different kind of cake, my lady," Megan replied.  
Sivi and Andrea shared a look.  
Galadriel shrugged. She had given up trying to understand the children of this strange, new   
world. She simply asked,  
"Will you undertake this task?" Legolas, Joseph, and the teenagers looked at one another.  
"Yeah, sure," Christina said. "Whatever."  
"Very well," Galadriel said, removing what semed a small star from her finger. "Prince   
Legolas, tomorrow before you go I shall entrust you with Nenya. Return it safely to me when you   
have done."  
"Well I will, my lady," Legolas replied gravely.  
"Go now and rest," Galadriel continued, smiling to think that she had said that before to at   
least one member of the group. "Sivi, stay a while," she said suddenly, "and... Christina, you   
as well."   
  
YAY! Now review! Pwease? Phe-chan needs reviews. She needs them or she will explode... that happens   
to her sometimes... Anyone know where that came from? Sugar stuff to the first person with a  
correct answer! PRESS THE BUTTON NOW! Thank you. 


	8. Happiness and Hitting

Ellen sila lumen omentilmo! Here's Chapter Eight. As for my comments, thank everyone for me, and tell "Wicked Lady" that vanya and vana does mean fair, since the Vanyar were the first and fairest race of Elves.  
  
And Phe-chan will respond to the nice reviewers now! Firstly, to the nice reviewer who left no name in the box: I am thrilled that you enjoy the bit of strangeness! If it gets confusing, I apologize. The is/will be a prequel when I get the time. That will explain a lot, but this is the main story and has earned the right to go first. Jess: Thank you muchly! Wicked Lady: It's amazing what magic water can do, no? And as said, vanya does in fact, mean fair. Cindy: Yes, all things must end at some point. (Although this may go on and on and on for quite a while yet.) We will update as often as possible, promise. Heidi: I'm glad you like! (I sent an email, btw) Europa: Ah yes, I read in the library before too. Not such a good idea. But giggle as much as you want, it's good for you! Sorcha: Pepsi + Pretty One = FUN! Psycho-35803: You got the reference! It was GIR. Galadriel Greenleaf: YAY!!!!!! Hyper people are fun!!! Megolas: Laughter is good for you. Therefore, it does not make you insane. Rather, it is the refusal of laughter that drives one to madness.um.ok?  
  
  
  
Lothlorien was beautiful. So was Haldir. Tall, blonde, and unthinkably regal, the domineering elf demanded Sarah's attention with his mere presence. He, on the other hand, noticed her not at all. Sarah smiled to herself. She had been in such situations before, and she was an expert at turning the tables. She would simply have to see about arranging a 'wake-up call' for a certain unforgivably gorgeous elf.  
  
Legolas paced beneath the silver boughs of Caras Galadon. Where was Andrea? They would leave tomorrow on this quest of Galadriel's, but tonight. Tonight he must speak with his Squee.  
  
She approached him quietly from behind and tapped the muscle of his shoulder. "Aiya!" Legolas shouted, jumping high enough to catch and scramble into The Great Tree's lower branches, from which he blinked at her, breathing hard. She clapped her hands and laughed.  
  
"I snuck up on my elf!"  
  
Legolas regathered what last fragments of dignity he could find and leapt lightly down to stand before her. Standing as straight as possible, he addressed her,  
  
"My lady. my Squee."  
  
Blushing and tugging at her filmy lilac dress, she murmured,  
  
"My Pretty One. how did I sneak up on you?"  
  
"I am a bit harried this night, Melamin," Legolas admitted, taking her hand and holding it gently.  
  
"You are worried about our new quest, yes?" she asked.  
  
"Well, and that also," the elf said slowly.  
  
"What else?" she inquired, tilting her head slightly.  
  
Legolas began to hedge.  
  
"Only that I -" he stopped, blinked hard, and looked sharply away with just a slight inward tuck of his lower lip. It was his mannerism when he was distressed. He forced himself to look her in the eye.  
  
"Only that I would have you for my wife," he said, dropping to one knee. Squee squealed. He pulled a ring of gold and diamonds from somewhere within his jerkin, trying not to wince at the pain in his ears as Squee squealed louder. He doggedly kept his face stoical, but her noises were kindling a blazing fire in his head.  
  
"Will you marry me?" he murmured. Squee squealed louder than he had ever heard her - or anything else - shriek in all his nearly three thousand years. Legolas, in that moment, achieved the distinction of being the first man. elf. male to propose out of love and yet not worry about whether or not the girl would say "yes" or "no." He was only worried with preserving his hearing - he could FEEL his nerve endings disintegrating. (I am not certain he knew what nerve endings were, but something was dissolving in there; he knew that.)  
  
"Andrea, Melamin, that hurts," he pleaded.  
  
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she squeaked, grabbing him and yanking him to his feet. Any other male would have been, at this point, reconsidering his offer.  
  
"Melamin! Calm yourself! What are you going to be like on our wedding day?" he asked, half panicking, half laughing.  
  
"Happy! Happy! I'm going to be happy!" she squealed in elation.  
  
Legolas pulled her into his arms and hissed her hard. The noise promptly ceased, only to be replaced by the gasps and giggles of the ridiculous onlookers Legolas had forgotten were watching. Slowly, he pulled away. Her small mouth formed a perfect geometric oval, but the only sounds were the soft snickers of the pair's audience. Legolas laughed aloud. He had finally found a pleasant, easy method of quieting his Squee.  
  
  
  
There were swans in the stream and roses on the rocks. Weeping willows and birches, majestic beeches, and the exquisite mallorn trees lined the stone- strewn banks. The stream bubbled gently, crystal-clear and perfectly pristine. Emerald moss and slowly wafting water plants were accented by the gossamer sun-shafts.  
  
In this picturesque fairy portrait frame, Sarah sat loftily, robed in a golden gown given her by Galadriel. Her deep auburn hair was loose, hanging in a straight red cascade between her shoulder blades. Her lips looked as soft and as scarlet as the roses around her. Altogether, she made a stunning sight.  
  
Haldir was obviously appropriately impressed, but Sarah's boundlessly deep eyes did not turn in his direction.  
  
"You are one of Legolas' companions, are you not?" he asked to gain her attention. She blinked and regarded him condescendingly, as if to say,  
  
"Oh. It's ONLY an incredibly, unbelievably, impossibly handsome elf."  
  
"I travel with Legolas," she replied in a, "So, what to do you want?" tone of voice.  
  
"What is your name?" asked Haldir.  
  
"Why do you need to know?" Sarah asked with a soft snort.  
  
"So that I may hold a conversation with you," Haldir answered, as though it ought to be obvious.  
  
"How do I know that I want to talk to you?" Sarah returned, sounding for all the world like she was dealing with an arrogant street kid instead of a sentry of Elves.  
  
"I know not whether you wish to speak with me or not," Haldir said, holding his temper hard, "but I want to talk to YOU, and I asked you your name."  
  
Sarah tossed her hair and made him no reply. Narrowing his silvery-blue eyes, Haldir turned to go, first muttering,  
  
"Females: they can have sense or beauty, but not both."  
  
Sarah heard. Haldir scarce knew what had hit him. She came up off of the dew-glittered grass like a saffron-and-scarlet wind and slapped the haughty elf so hard that his cheek turned crimson.  
  
"Anything more to say to me? Say it to my face. Any more insults to hurl? So I haven't got any sense? Well, I've got more sense than to waste my time on an arrogant, ignorant, self-satisfied, horse-eared jerk like you who has hair like Rapunzel's but not even a hint of a tan!" she stormed.  
  
She executed a calculated, whirling pirouette that landed the stinging, whip-like ends of her hair straight across the elf's stuttering face. Haldir was fuming so hard as he watched her stalk off that one side of his face, already the color of Sarah's hair from her biting blow, turned a deep shade of purple. Her slap wasn't the thing that angered him most, however. Sarah had managed to tear Haldir's ego in half.  
  
  
  
The next morning, the eight friends stood at the foot of The Great Tree before Celeborn and Galadriel. As she had done the previous night - then she had done so only to fiddle with it, if an elf may be said to fiddle with anything -, she removed the tiny star that was Nenya from her delicate finger. Handing it to Legolas, she asked,  
  
"You are ready?"  
  
"We are," he answered.  
  
"None wish to turn back?"  
  
"None."  
  
"Then go with our blessing," Celeborn said quietly.  
  
Legolas slid the cool, silver band over his ring finger and, not knowing how else to manage the feat, wished hard. Lothlorien melted away into the broad streets of Gondor. 


	9. Gondor and Gilgalad

Busy busy busy. Sorry this took so long. It's my fault and I have no excuses for it. ElvenPickle, I cannot take the credit for the language. EHAB is the one who does most all the actual writing. She's better. (Yes you are, so don't argue.) Thanks muchly for the nice review. Europa, there was one other least yummy elf, but to see him you must watch in slow motion. The fact that I noticed that scares me. But, yes, the ego gets annoying. ^-^ Punkpunk, Hehe.I never noticed.hmm. Megolas, my favorite part. Sappy Legolas is fun. ~~Phe-chan~~  
  
The Grandeur of Gondor was even more splendid than it would be in Legolas' time. The city of Minas Tirith was vast, people in bright colors were everywhere, and the Tower of Ecthalion stood as proud and tall before them as if it had been completed the day before. Legolas made a mental note that the teenagers were more astounded by the city's size and beauty than they had been by the appearance of an elf in a world where elves should not exist. Joseph, as usual, was stoical.  
  
"Pretty." Andrea mumbled in amazement. She suddenly wished for a sketchbook and several million colored pencils. She heard Sivi comment, most likely out of pure habit, on the fact that she had yet again managed to sound like a furby.  
  
"OK, wow," said Christina. "So, uh, where do we go from here?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Legolas admitted.  
  
"Well, for starters," said the amazed but ever-practical Megan, "how long are we going to be here? If we're staying overnight - and I doubt this ring maker guy is just gonna let us walk in, take the rings, and walk out -, then we need a place to sleep."  
  
"Well spoken, Lady Megan," Legolas nodded. "Let us see to't."  
  
Gil-galad was only half-listening to Elendil, which was not a good thing, since the two kings were supposed to be going over strategies for the upcoming battle. His attention was focused on a singular sight. Five human girls, a human boy, a human man, and a Sindarin elf had just appeared out of nowhere in the courtyard surrounding Ecthalion. Gil-galad watched them intently, trying to decide whether or not this odd group could be comprised of the Enemy's spies. Then, Gil-galad ceased to care from whence they came. He cared only who * she * was.  
  
One girl had stepped away from the cluster and placed her hand - oh, so respectfully - on the bole of The White Tree. She looked at the Tree with such a mixture of wonder and delight that Gil-galad wondered whether this was not a beautifully innocent elf-maid. Her hair was bronze-golden, falling in lovely marked waves down her back. Her eyes were blue-gray, and she was slightly taller than all the other girls but one. Yet her ears were rounded and her skin, though fair, was not pale as to be that of an elf.  
  
Watching her from the slim, arched window of Ecthalion's highest floor, Gil-galad felt a strange shift in his stomach.  
  
"Elendil," he said, "come and tell me, do you recognize any of these people?"  
  
Elendil, having been halfway through a long, complicated explanation of why the Alliance could not possibly be defeated, was considerably startled at his companion's request. He stood and sauntered over to stand beside Gil- galad. He squinted down at the eight figures in the courtyard.  
  
"No, friend, I do not recall ever having seen any of them before," he told the Elven-king with a shrug. "Why?"  
  
"The girl in the blue gown," Gil-galad said. "I want her brought to me immediately. I wish to speak with her."  
  
With a sigh for the eccentricities of elves, Elendil commanded the guard at the door to do Gil-galad's bidding. 


	10. This is Where His Head Hurts

Ellen sila lumen omentilmo! I am ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy, or EHAB (not rehab, as one our reviewers thought would be cute to call me :] ). I would just like to note here that our description of Tolkien's character Gil-galad and Tolkien's description of the same character will probably not be consistent with one another. However, since I, Sivi, lost in a straw- draw against Phe-chan, or Andrea, over who got Legolas, I feel that I at least have the right to customize the guy that decides to fall for me, at least within the bounds of a fanfic that has already negated much of Tolkien's text and will continue to deviate there from in future chapters. Thank you for your time and attention.  
  
We have a new chapter up now. And just so I can get it out of my system: CHEMISTRY IS EVIL!!!! Ok, I think I feel better now, on to reviewers. Telboriel, YAY! And we will keep updating, if only cause EHAB can break my brain (again) I'll whack her with a carebear.ah, friends are so wonderful. Stardome, Just asking, do you like Elrond or is the name from somewhere else? Megolas, well, as you will see, they don't want much trouble yet. Wicked Lady, er.ok, that was different. Midnights Fairy, what do you mean? (and 'pretty one' because he is)  
  
~~Phe-chan~~  
  
Sivi sat in the shade offered by the delicate white blossoms of the Tree of Gondor, playing absently with a filmy fold in the skirts of the bluish, sea-colored gown Galadriel had been kind enough to provide for her. The others were still trying to figure out how to come by lodgings for the night. Sivi had grown tired of the endless debate and taken a seat under the White Tree in order to survey the beauty surrounding her. She was almost asleep when a guard from the Tower accosted Joseph, speaking apologetically, courteously, but pointing at her.  
  
"Sivi," Joseph called, "uh, Punkin, King Gil-galad wants to talk to you. Do you know him?"  
  
"I know who he is," Sivi replied, thinking hard and quickly. Was it a crime to touch Gondor's Tree?  
  
"I will go," she told the soldier. "Wait for me," she said to her friends.  
  
"Well, duh," Sarah said. Gil-galad received Sivi altogether too kindly for the young girl's comfort. He sent the guard away and opened the door for her himself. As she allowed him to see her to a silver chair with dark, emerald-green, velvet cushions, she noted a middle-aged man reclining in a similar seat in the shadows of one of the vaulted ceiling's gracefully arcing stone supports. He was mumbling over the crisp white pages of a slender, leather-bound volume, whose title Sivi could not distinguish, by the light of a fat white candle. Sivi could not escape the notion that he was ignoring, and pointedly ignoring, both her and King Gil-galad.  
  
"I thank you for humoring me, my lady," Gil-galad said in a suave, velvet voice designed to snap in twain the heart of a mortal child. Sivi, used to Legolas' similarly beautiful tones, was... it would be false to say "unmoved," for no human may hear the voice of an Elven-king and remain "unmoved"... but perhaps it would be fair to say that she was moved little. Continued Gil-galad,  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
Sivi thought swiftly. This might be an introduction or an interrogation. She knew little about this elf's save that he was a valiant High King. Tolkien had said that he would die in battle with the Enemy. Thus, she did not quite know whether or not to trust Gil-galad and his too- gentle manner. She would give him one of the Elven names she had chosen for herself.  
  
"I am Telpeleniel," she replied, and suddenly wanted to slap herself. "Telpeleniel" was Quenya for "Silver Star." "Gil-galad" was Sindarin for "Star of Radiance." She hoped desperately that he would not suspect her of flirting with him, when in truth, all she wanted was to leave him and get back to her friends and her quest.  
  
Gil-galad meantime had started. His deep-set, expressive oval eyes, as turquoise as the waters of the Caribbean Sea, narrowed as he asked,  
  
"Your name is Elvish?"  
  
"It's but one of my names," she replied coolly.  
  
"Do you know mine?" he asked with a winning smile.  
  
Sivi barely kept herself from chuckling as she thought, ah, now the advantage is mine. Sivi had a past-time, a hobby of sorts, of... well, Andrea called it "breaking people's brains." In short, Sivi forced her companions' minds into overdrive by either inadvertently discerning their thoughts or by delving into subjects so deep, they made the Marianas Trench look shallow. She had never broken an elf's brain before... this could be fun.  
  
Sivi might not know much about Gil-galad's personality, but she did know a good deal about his background. Summoning to her mind all her knowledge of the Noldor's High King, she laughed.  
  
"I know who you are, Ereinion Gil-galad, son of Fingon, son of Fingolfin, son of Finwe, who was ambassador of the Noldor to Aman," she said coldly, meeting his gaze with an even stare. "Hithlum and Falas could not hold you, and Turgon did not bestow Glamdring the Foe-hammer upon his young nephew. For your own sake, I pray that Aeglos will serve you instead. Where is Vilya?"  
  
"I..." Gil-galad stared at her in wonder. The man in the shadows forgot to pretend to read and instead gaped most unbecomingly at Sivi.  
  
"Who are you?" Gil-galad demanded, holding fast to his heart, but in vain.  
  
"I have told you, but I will tell you again," Sivi answered, dredging up the Quenya name her father sometimes allowed her friends to call him and lodging it firmly in her mind. "I am Telpeleniel, firstborn of Raental, descendant of kings."  
  
She did not mention which kings or how long ago they had ruled. (By the by, if you're wondering, "Raental" means "Wandering foot," and Joseph was so named because of his passion for hiking.)  
  
"There," she said, "now answer me: Vilya na sinome?" (Vilya is in this place?)  
  
"Yes na," he whispered (It is.), and shaking like a frail leaf in a high wind, he produced the Ring of Air from beneath his tunic, letting it dangle from a long silver chain on which it was hung about his throat.  
  
"Ar Narya?" (And Narya?)  
  
"Cirdan keeps watch over the siege at the Barad-dur," Gil-galad answered. "I have returned to Gondor these three days to hold discourse with Elendil and his sons, away from the deceitful ears of traitors and spies."  
  
"I am neither, so he that sits in the corner may close his cavernous mouth. Don't you know you can attract flies that way?" Sivi snapped, directly addressing the man in the shadows, who had long since dropped his book and his jaw.  
  
"I suppose," she continued saucily, "that you are Elendil son of Amandil of Andunie, and the father of Isildur and Anarion."  
  
Silently, the man nodded. Sivi concluded that she was in a room with two men -- well, a man and an elf -- who would soon die. It was an unpleasant thought, and her mind sought wildly an excuse for her to take leave of them. Seeking refuge in rudeness, she glared pointedly at Gil- galad.  
  
"Was there a reason you asked me here? You seem to have forgotten it, so if I may--"  
  
"I asked you here because you are more beautiful then the stars for which you are named," Gil-galad interrupted, startling himself and Sivi. Elendil, resigned to the day's astounding incredibility, picked up his book with a heavy sigh. Elves.  
  
"The sight of the Araquendi is marred," Sivi said quietly, bitterly. She had been called beautiful by few outside of her family and had hardened herself so as not to believe those who did say it.  
  
"I hen Quendiello na maika ar thalion," replied the elf proudly but softly, perceiving the self-degradation in her tone.  
  
Sivi rose without permission and curtsied insolently, then left without a word. Gil-galad marveled at the irony of the thing, that the girl could take a gesture of profound respect and transform it into a striking blow to the heart  
  
See the button? It does a good thing. Please press the button and leave a review for us. 


	11. And Here the Heart Hurts Also

Note to Reviewers: In the last chapter, Sivi broke Gil-galad's brain. In this chapter, she breaks his heart (but not his pocket-book). Also, pay attention to small details in this chapter, as many of them are hints at the growing mystery behind Sivi's character. On a sillier note, thanks to all the wonderful reviewers who were so gracious about Chapters Nine and Ten! I printed out the review page and took it to show to people, I was so pleased :)!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
  
  
Hi-o! This is a longer chappie, yes. Not that you mind, elf sap is fun. By the by, if anyone knows of a place that can host a web comic for free let me know. Keenspace isn't answering the thingy and it's been over 9 weeks now. Person who left the name blank: Ah mental places.they serve good ice- cream.or was that the.ah well. Wicked Lady: in answer to your question: me. Finnevere: EHAB answered you. Telboriel: Hehehe! Do not worry there will be sap! Megolas: heh, Sivi ish all weird and stuff. Ricky: Aaaahhh! NOOO! No mitosis, BAD! (And tell me how!) Nessawen: hmm.I have no clue, the end is not written yet. Europa: No, my teacher is nice actually, but the subject is 3v1l! OK, I'll go now, Ja! ~Phe-chan~  
  
Legolas had managed to find lodgings for himself, Joseph, and Jeremie in the home of the sister of a Gondorian widow; the widow herself agreed to house Sivi, Andrea, Megan, Sarah, and Christina. Sivi had not told any of the others about her conversation with Gil-galad. She was glad at Legolas' choice of housing, for Gil-galad would not search for a "descendant of kings" in the house of a middle-class widow. After praying that night for wisdom, courage, guidance, and protection, she lay awake and wondered what Gil-galad saw in her that no one else could.  
  
As she drifted at last, as though she were a feather carried on a night's breeze, into the boundless realms of sleep and dreams, she thought that she could discern the distant lullaby of a great ocean. The last fleeting thought that she entertained before leaving consciousness was a bemusèd notion that the Ulumúri were calling to her from afar.  
  
Indeed, the sea's song did not die as she entered her dream, but grew stronger and even more fair to hear. She turned from the cloud of nothingness that assaults one's lidded eyes in sleep, and saw before her a vast, beautifully clear sea flecked with falmar - crested waves - that winked ceaselessly back. The falmar were small and the ocean was calm, glistening in the moonlight. Sivi entertained a bizarre wish that she were made of ithildin; then, perhaps, she might be as lovely as Gil-galad thought her. She could not understand why it should matter to her what a king of Elves, who would die some time in the near future, thought of her physical beauty.  
  
The sea's salt smell was fresh, clearing her senses, telling her that if she was indeed dreaming, then she never wished to awaken. She had had dreams like this all her life: Elven-dreams, more real than the mornings she woke up to; dreams so real that she could sometimes control them, or at least what she herself did in response to the scenarios her dreams gave her. In her dreams, when she ran, she got somewhere, and where she got to depended on where she wanted to go.  
  
In fact, a number of her "nightmares" were dreams in which her control of herself was diminished or taken away. In short, these "nightmares" were normal human dreams. Others, however, were true nightmares, dreams of death by fire or beheading, of loved ones drowning or falling prey to dread diseases, dungeons desolate and cold, creatures even Hollywood would shudder at, made all the more horrific by the fact that, until the alarm clock went off, they were real enough to catch you and truly do you harm. In the dreams of an Elf, pain is real.  
  
However, at the moment, Sivi was not running from a beastly creature. She was reveling in a beautiful Cuiviénen. She felt the cool, white sand beneath her long toes, sand that was both fine and finite, soft and soothing. She joyed in the delicate, filmy raiment of white that flowed like whispers over her arms, brushing her neck like faerie wings, sheltering her body like a mother's soft, ivory hands. She was ornamented in silver, opals, pearl, emeralds, and sapphires, stones with hues as deep as the waters they mirrored, and the light metals felt pleasantly cold on her pale skin. A breeze played through her unbound hair as through lute- strings of gold.  
  
"Utulielye," said a voice as soft, fair, and insistent as the sea's. "Nan si, ve nalye. Nai nalmet si oio. Im mel le, vana lotë eleniello." (You're here. I am here as you are. May it be we are here forever. I love you, fair blossom of the stars.)  
  
"You don't know me. How can you love me?" she countered, knowing who stood behind her and refusing to turn around.  
  
"Neither do you know me. How, then, can you hate me as you do?" he answered, his words thick and deep as they left his throat. "What is this thing that I have done to earn your enmity?"  
  
"I don't hate you," Sivi returned, executing a slow and mirthless pirouette. As she had known they would since first he spoke, her blue-gray eyes revealed to her the silhouetted form of the High King of the Noldor. His golden hair, the color and tenuity of corn silk, gleamed as the soft beams of moonlight shone through its straight strands as through a faceted gem, casting shafts of light in all directions. Though the moon was behind him, his eyes caught and held a bit of the radiance of the stars, as the eyes of most elves will. Sivi felt as though she had found the two lost Silmarilli - beautiful, but forbidden to any whose heart was impure.  
  
"Say it again, that you hate me not," Gil-galad pleaded. A mist veiled the diadems in his blue-green eyes: a mist of tears.  
  
"I do not hate you," Sivi repeated, "but neither do I understand you. How can you love me if you don't even know me?"  
  
"Beren loved Luthien for her beauty," Gil-galad answered.  
  
Sivi shook her head in despair, confusion. and irony. What should she say to him? Should she tell him.?  
  
"That is not what I want," she said. "I want to be loved for who I am. Besides," she added with a soft, dry laugh, "I know a bit more about Beren and Luthien than you do. Furthermore, it is ridiculous to compare me with Tinúviel. Her beauty surpassed all the elves', but beauty have I none."  
  
Wanting to contradict her but knowing how she would react, Gil-galad let fall a hollow, haunted laugh, and with it, a piece of his pride.  
  
"Do you know I am the High King? That alone would give me the hand of any maiden I that I want, except. except the one I want."  
  
"There: do you love me or want me?" Sivi demanded.  
  
"Im mel le, melui nin," he replied fervently. (I love you, my ever-love.)  
  
Sighing, Sivi turned away.  
  
"This is Cuiviénen, is it not?" she asked. With a nearly imperceptible step toward her, the product more of his subconscious, yet pure, yearning than of any command his mind had given his feet, he answered quietly.  
  
"I often come here, in my dreams. In my dreams I come to the Waters of Awakening," he smiled. "I think I'm dreaming now," he went on, laughing a little, "dreaming of you." His voice softened again.  
  
"Nai romen entul uoio." Sivi would not look at him. (May the coming of the sunrise not take forever.)  
  
"This is Cuiviénen; I neni Im mel, yet less than you do I love these waters now." (the waters I love)  
  
Ignoring his last remark, Sivi began to sing softly:  
  
"By this bay the Elves awoke,  
  
Marveled at Varda's stars.  
  
Quendi were they, the first who spoke,  
  
Summoned to Valimar.   
  
  
  
"Vanyar, first and fairest were;  
  
Noldor, deft and wise,  
  
Who shaped the Valar's great treasure;  
  
Teleri, lovers of waves and skies.   
  
  
  
"See the fair by forest fountain,  
  
By foaming woodland pool,  
  
Strong, undaunted by vale or mountain,  
  
And wisest of all who rule.   
  
  
  
"Mystery lays his hand on me.  
  
Intrigue, his daughter, smiles,  
  
And says, 'My mortal sister be,  
  
Thus prone to mortal wiles.'   
  
  
  
"They know I cannot stand the thought  
  
Of knowing naught of you,  
  
For mine is a curious, eager lot,  
  
And I'd rather know than do."   
  
  
  
Gil-galad was silent. He knew not what to say. With each word she spoke he loved her more. Why couldn't she see that?  
  
"After that, you bid me not to love you?" he whispered.  
  
"Go away," she said; "you frighten me."  
  
Gil-galad gave a choking cry and a half-sob.  
  
"I frighten you?" he repeated. "Then, melui, I will go. I -"  
  
"Wait," Sivi said suddenly.  
  
Gil-galad stopped eagerly, hoping for a word of comfort. Hanging her head in shame, Sivi admitted quietly,  
  
"The one thing I fear most is being left alone."  
  
Gil-galad cocked his head, intrigued.  
  
"I don't mind being alone," Sivi added, "but I can't stand being LEFT alone."  
  
"You would rather be here with one who frightens you?"  
  
"Yes," replied Sivi, barely audible. She almost added that her fear of being left was such that she would rather be in the same room with Ungoliant or Shelob, but felt he might not find that a very flattering comparison.  
  
"Melui, I would never hurt you. Please trust me. Im mel le," Gil-galad insisted.  
  
Sivi sat down on the sand with her feet in the surf. Gil-galad stood protectively over her, longing to place a hand on her shoulder but not daring. If she should shudder or brush his fingers away, it might kill him.  
  
"Melui," he said quietly. Resignedly, Sivi accepted the pet name he had given her.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"From whence do you come?"  
  
"America," she replied dryly, not caring what he thought.  
  
"I do not know it, but I will search the charts for it until I -"  
  
"Don't waste your time," she broke in. "It's not on your maps. Trust me."  
  
"I will. Will you trust me?"  
  
Sivi said nothing.  
  
"I will die, Melui," he whispered. "I will die of a broken heart."  
  
"You will not die of a broken heart, if you do die," Sivi said, feeling a wave of remorse for this elf that pledged his love to her. Remembering her words in the tower, it occurred to Gil-galad that Sivi might be some sort of prophetess.  
  
"Will I die?" he asked, having grown cold. Carefully, Sivi answered,  
  
"The Quendi are not born to die."  
  
"No, but some do," he pressed.  
  
"Some do, yes."  
  
"Then I will die," he surmised quietly. "In Mordor?"  
  
"You assume too much," Sivi said. "I never said yes or no to the first question."  
  
"And you will not say yes or no, will you? Then know this: whether I am or am not to die, I will return to the field of battle. The soldiers under me are Quendi, as I am, and are no more born to die than I am. I am their king, and I will lead them."  
  
"I wish you blessings, guidance, and protection," she said sincerely, looking up at him, "but should we never meet again, I think it better for us both."  
  
The burden of the girl's words smote the elf-king so heavily that he woke. Few have heard the weeping of an elf denied his one love. Be grateful if you are not numbered among those few.  
  
As for Sivi, she, too, woke from the dream with a start. Even the gentle breathing of Andrea and Megan in the cots on either side of her-or murmurings of flying coco bunnies, in Andrea's case-could not soothe her. Stricken by guilt, whether deservedly or no, I will let you judge, she cried silent tears well into the night. 


	12. Trouble

The small group met in the widow's house after breakfast. Joseph shook his head.  
  
"Legolas tells me he doesn't know where to find this... Celebrimbror."  
  
"Celebrimbror is dead," Sivi said, looking up with a startled frown. "This is the year 3441 of the Second Age" she went on; "the year in which the One was taken by Isildur. Celebrimbror was slain in the year 1697, when Eregion was overrun during the wars of that time."  
  
"So, what are we doing in Gondor over seventeen hundred years later?" asked Sarah.  
  
"The legends surrounding the Rings of Power are not very clear, or at least" -- he glanced wonderingly at Sivi -- "are not made clear to the common Elf in my time," Legolas admitted. "I was guessing."  
  
"You're not a common Elf," Andrea protested. "You're a prince."  
  
"What he means is, he's not a scholar," Megan explained. "I think."  
  
"So where are the Elven Rings now?" asked Jeremie.  
  
"Nenya we need not concern ourselves with, for it was not stolen," Sivi answered.  
  
"Whoever it was knew that they'd better not mess with Galadriel," Christina snorted.  
  
"Vilya currently belongs to Gil-galad," Sivi continued, "and Narya, to Cirdan."  
  
"So, we have two choices," concluded Joseph: "We can stay here and try to beg the Rings from two different Elves, or we can make another time jump."  
  
"Basically," Sivi agreed.  
  
"What about this Gil-galad guy?" Andrea asked.  
  
"What about him?" Sivi returned uncomfortably.  
  
"Isn't he supposed to die or something?"  
  
"At the upcoming battle, yes."  
  
"Shouldn't we try to rescue him?" Sarah asked.  
  
"Many Men and Elves will die that day," Sivi said sadly. "We can't save them all."  
  
"No, but we can try to rescue one," Megan said.  
  
"We could," Sivi agreed.  
  
"So I guess we're staying here, then?" Joseph surmised.  
  
The rest of the group nodded.  
  
Gil-galad had been searching for Telpeliniel all morning. None of the nobles of Gondor seemed to know anything about her. It pained the Elf to think that she might be hiding from him. In two days, he would have to return to the battle field, and he wanted at the least to tell her goodbye.  
  
Suddenly, he spotted the fair-haired Sinda that traveled with Telpeliniel's small band. Making his way through the sparse crowds of the narrow streets, he saw that the Elf was talking to the human man that was also in the little group of eight.  
  
"Pardon me, m'lord, a word," said the elf-king as he came up to them. The man looked at him strangely, but said to his Sindarin friend,  
  
"I'll be back in a minute, OK, Legolas?" The elf nodded.  
  
"What can I do for you, sir?" the man asked politely.  
  
"Are you Raental?" Gil-galad asked hopefully. The man blinked.  
  
"That's not my proper name, but my daughter's friends call me that, yes," he replied. "I don't even know what it means. My real name's Joseph."  
  
"I see. Your daughter, her name is Telpeliniel, is it not?"  
  
"Again, that's what her friends call her," Joseph conceded.  
  
"What is her name?" Gil-galad pressed, wounded that she had not trusted him enough to give him her real name.  
  
"Well, who are you, first?" asked Joseph suspiciously. Reprimanding himself and choking back his eagerness to know more of his melui, Gil-galad tipped his head respectfully.  
  
"Forgive me, sir. I am Ereinion Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor. Telpeliniel had words with me yesterday; I believe I made her uncomfortable, and I should like to apologize and bid her good bye before I return to the field of battle a few days from now."  
  
"I would not do that if I were you," Joseph said warningly.  
  
"Do what?" asked a startled elf-king.  
  
"Go back to the battle. It is not... wise."  
  
Gil-galad's heart sank in his chest. If Telpeliniel was a prophetess, it was likely, or rather it made sense, for her father to be a prophet. If that was so, it seemed as though the elf-king's death was imminent, and he had no idea what to do about it. He would not desert his soldiers; so much as that was certain enough.  
  
"I thank you, sir, for your concern," he said nobly, "but I'm afraid I have no other option."  
  
"You're a brave man -- I mean, a brave elf --, and a polite one," Joseph replied. "Her name is Siobhan (SEE-oh-vahn), but everyone calls her Sivi."  
  
"Joseph, sir?" called the elf Legolas. "Megan would speak with you."  
  
"I have to go," Joseph told Gil-galad, "but maybe you and Sivi can talk tomorrow."  
  
He disappeared into the crowd before the Elven-king could say a word in reply. 


	13. Alicorn Towers

Sivi sighed, playing the day's events back through her mind like a broken record. It had not been a totally wasted day; they had managed to decide when and exactly where they would catch up with Gil-galad and Elendil as the two kings rode to join their armies. Megan and Sarah had found and purchased, using money given them by Lord Celeborn, four horses.  
  
The great problem was what to do when the little band did meet the kings. Gil-galad, at least, had made it clear that he would not be turned away or dissuaded from returning to the battle. Sarah had tried her hand once more at devising plans; she suggested ambushing Gil-galad and Elendil and holding them "hostage" until the battle was over, but Sivi had shot down that idea in flames.  
  
Six teens, a middle-aged supervisor, and one elf, all but three of them untrained in the art of combat, ambushing two kings twice their physical size, surrounded by an entourage, in full body armor, and armed to Elendil's teeth and Gil-gald's pointed ears?  
  
"Are you MAD?!? We'd end up more full of spikes than the punch at a college fraternity party!"  
  
"Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right."  
  
So, as of yet, no plans had been laid. Sivi rubbed her temples. The three guys had gone back to the house of Widow Dorwen's sister. The other four girls were breathing deeply, calling Sivi after them into dreams, but she was not willing to sleep. She was almost sure she would dream again, and if she did, she was even more sure of what she would dream about. Yet she knew that she could not lie awake all night. She had done that before, in order to escape vicious nightmares, but she knew that tomorrow she would need her mind fresh for thinking. Tomorrow would be the last day before Gil- glad would leave Minas Tirith. It would be their last day to come up with a way to rescue him.  
  
Somewhere between resignedly and begrudgingly, she settled down onto her cot and allowed her tired body to rest. At that point, sleep became inevitable, and she did not strive against it.  
  
Gil-galad wished fervently that he might sleep. He was desperate to see her again, and it was beginning to appear that that would only be possible in his dreams. Yet the more he longed to nod off, the more awake he became. Finally, after numerous long, brutal hours of lying absolutely rigid on his bed and staring aimlessly at the ceiling, the elf slipped into a dream.  
  
Still, something was not right. He should have been controlling his dream, at least in part, but it was not so. He was on a long and narrow ribbon of sand betwixt an ocean and a wood; so much was fine and presented no problem at all. The figure of a young woman robed in flowing, star-spun white silk stood only just out of his arm's length, her tawny hair blazing as it mirrored the rose-golden tidal wave of the setting sun's last light. Again, so much was good, more than pleasing to Gil-galad. Her back was to him. Well, what of that? These things were the settings of his dream, beyond his power to manipulate. The one thing an Elf is permitted to control in his dreams is himself, his reactions to the settings given him.  
  
Yet that was just it: he could not react. He could not move, could not speak, could only stare at her in dumb fascination. He could not even cry out to her. What if she did not turn, did not see him or know he was there?  
  
Even as this ugly thought occurred to him, she did turn, did see him. Gil-galad's heart nearly ceased to serve him as he saw disappointment and fear register in her eyes. He tried to speak to hear, to beg her not to look at him in such a way, but his lips were as useless and immobile as carven stone.  
  
"Your Highness," she said with a curtsy far too formal and dignified.  
  
Suddenly discovering that the leaden shroud had fallen from his body, the elf bowed almost pleadingly but did not speak. She waited for him to shower her with "Im mel lle's" and "Melui's", but he said nothing, to her great relief.  
  
Then, he opened his mouth as if to address her, but no sound emerged. Concernedly, she asked,  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
He started to clasp his throat, but his hand stopped midair. Tentatively, he managed,  
  
"My lady?"  
  
"Are you all right?" she asked again.  
  
"I... I could not speak," he replied, but his voice had indeed been restored to him, as handsomely appealing as ever it had been.  
  
"A moment ago, I could not move, either," he added shakily.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sivi said, flushing. "I think it was my fault. I knew you were behind me, but I didn't want you... to touch me, so I hoped in my mind that... that you would stay where you were. Then, I... I didn't want you saying all those things to me that you did last night--"  
  
"And my voice left me. I do not understand. Why should YOU be able to do that to ME? I'm the Elf."  
  
"This is MY dream," she retorted rather pertly.  
  
"I was not aware that humans could control their dreams, as elves do," Gil-galad returned by way of mild apology.  
  
"Most can't," Sivi said softly. "I'm different."  
  
"I meant no offense, M--"  
  
The last word, as much as the elf worked his mouth, would not come out. He looked rather expressively at Sivi.  
  
"I didn't do anything," she protested. "Try to speak."  
  
"I... I don't understand. That one word... I cannot say it."  
  
"What are you tr-- oh. You were going to call me Melui, weren't you? No wonder."  
  
"You would rather that I did not refer to you so, I take it," murmured Gil-galad. A fresh pain revealed itself in the king's eyes. "Perhaps, then, you prefer 'Sivi'?"  
  
"No, I prefer Telpeliniel," Sivi replied without blinking.  
  
"Why did you lie to me?" the dejected elf asked miserably.  
  
"I didn't. Telpeliniel is my Elven name. I told you it was only one of my names."  
  
"What can I do? How can I make you at least TRUST me?"  
  
"I don't want to go through this entire conversation again," she said. A twinkle appeared in her eyes. "But..."  
  
"But?" Gil-galad pressed hopefully.  
  
"If you can keep up with me, I'll talk to you," Sivi said mischievously. She had caused him enough grief that she owed him at least one game, one token of friendship, or so she felt.  
  
"Will you allow me to move?" Gil-galad inquired pointedly, yet he was greatly encouraged by her sudden playful demeanor.  
  
"Of course," she laughed. "See you later."  
  
She took off down the beach at a speed Gil-galad had never seen in a human. Relieved to find that she had kept her word, that his feet would indeed respond to his mental urgings, he shot off. Lightning running jagged through the now orange sky could not have overtaken the determined elf. He made up for a few of the seconds he had lost, but he could not quite catch her. She was like a silver-golden phantom that was swept just beyond his reach by the four winds. He ran harder, pushing his disciplined muscles to achieve a speed so wild that he was certain he would fall out of sheer recklessness. Had Andrea been there, she would have nicknamed him, "The Blur," and for once, she would have made sense.  
  
The beach was not infinite, or at least, was not uninterrupted. There rose before the two runners a towering, spiraling, ancient, structure made of what seemed to be white seashell, like so many allicorns of immortal unicorns grown from the earth itself. It resembles a tight-structured but immensely tall castle of Men.  
  
Into the high, arced, door less portal of the place, Sivi dove without a thought. She raced down a long corridor and darted to her left, up a winding well of steps. "If he could catch her," had she said? "If he could find her" was now more appropriate.  
  
Despairing, Gil-galad dashed more than headlong after her. Tracing her steps down the lengthy hall, he wondered almost madly which side passage she could have taken. As he started to pass a flight of stairs, something made him stop. Without knowing why, he felt certain that he must traverse those stairs to find her.  
  
The muscles in his legs were flaming. The High Elven King had never before had to work so terribly hard to get what he wanted. He truly loved Sivi; he loved her as one loves a rare and brilliant gemstone. It was beautiful and bittersweet, this game she played with him. It thrilled his heart that she would spend time with him in games and childish fun, but if -- WHEN, he insisted to himself -- he caught her, what would be his prize? She had said that she would talk to him. No less, but then again no more, than one conversation would be awarded him. Not a drop, a trinket, or a bauble of her love would he win.  
  
His light Elven boots found step after smooth, shallow step as he wound his way up, up, higher, faster, harder. He did not take the time to gaze around him. If he had, he would have noticed smooth, curving white walls, unlit by any torches, lanterns, or candles, or anything save thin streaks of white-gold light coming in through high slits of windows. He would have seen the occasional opening into the center of the tower. He might have noticed that he had not yet seen a door in the whole castle, nor any wood, nor stone; all was the same slick white shell.  
  
Gil-galad's chest was beginning to burn. He would not let himself stop or even slow his pace, but instead spurred himself on faster. At last, the stairs led him through a square hole in the tower roof.  
  
Gil-galad turned to his right -- and immediately could not move. If he had been able, he might have sprawled onto his stomach, so abrupt was his forced halt. He could not speak, and he was beginning to have trouble even thinking. He wondered -- as well as he could in light of his current inability to form a clear thought -- if she was wishing him out of existence.  
  
Turning to him with a teasing grin, Sivi said simply,  
  
"You win."  
  
Instantly his body was once again his own to command, as were his voice and mind. "Please stop doing that to me," Gil-galad pleaded breathlessly.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "And... I'm sorry about what I said last night, too. About not seeing you again. I didn't mean that."  
  
Gil-galad's heart swelled. There was yet hope. Taking a cautious step towards her, he said,  
  
"You don't have to be sorry. Ever. I'm sorry for hounding you as I've done. It's just... I honestly, earnestly love you."  
  
"I didn't believe you last night," Sivi whispered. "Now I do."  
  
She drew close to him and put a hand on his shoulder, one finger resting on the side of his throat. A welcome chill washed up and down his spine.  
  
"Why can't we be together?" he asked softly.  
  
"For many reasons," she replied. "Do you see the sun, how it sinks lower into the pool of the horizon? I am a human woman. Mine are people of the sunset. At our rising we are young and bright; in our zenith we are proud and fair; but when it comes time for our setting.." She trailed off, and the Elf said nothing. He knew what was the sunset of humankind: age and death.  
  
"Yours," she went on, "are people of the countless, infinite, and immortal stars. How, then, can we be together?"  
  
Still he made her no answer. She continued,  
  
"Another reason is this" and she turned away from the ramparts and faced him once again. She tapped with one finger the breastplate of the king's golden armor.  
  
"You leave the day after tomorrow for the siege at the Dark Tower," she reminded him sadly, "but I must remain."  
  
"Battles are not forever," he returned weakly.  
  
"Even so," said she, turning quickly away, "there is my mortality, and there are other reasons that I am not sure I could make you understand."  
  
She thought of Pepsi, lawnmowers, and gumball machines. He caught the slight smile on her face, and his body went lifelessly cold.  
  
"Is there another?" he asked in the voice of one incapable of emotion.  
  
"Another what?" she frowned.  
  
"A -- a man?"  
  
"O! No, no, I don't have --" she started to say "a boyfriend," but realized that he would not understand, so she ended, "-- any prospects."  
  
Relief nearly drowned the poor elf as he stood there shaking from his fright. "Who is the Elf who travels with you?" he inquired cautiously.  
  
"Who, Legolas? He's--" she stopped. She did not know how closely Gil- galad and Thranduil knew one another, and Legolas had not yet been born in this time, so it would probably not be safe to call him Thranduil's son.  
  
"He is the betrothed of my good friend Andrea," she said.  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked abruptly.  
  
"Would that you might," he answered, shaking his head ruefully, "but I must hold council with Elendil and Isildur."  
  
"Will you come and see me the day after, before you leave?"  
  
"I do not know where you are staying," he said rather pointedly, but within him his heart was thundering like the hooves of an unbroken stallion. She wanted to see him again?  
  
"I'm staying with the widow Dorwen," she admitted quietly.  
  
"I will do my absolute best," he said gravely. "You will see me again tomorrow night, or so I hope," he added.  
  
"True, but I wanted to see you again... in real life; outside of my dreams."  
  
In an astonished voice, Gil-galad began,  
  
"You --"  
  
Suddenly, the sun, whose light had been waning speedily, disappeared altogether. In that instant, both Gil-galad and Sivi awoke. 


	14. Dream of Rain

To Siobhan from EHAB: That's awesome. If you don't mind my asking, what nationality are you? I know that Siobhan is an Irish name...  
  
Hi-hi from Phe-chan too! I'm FREE!!! The evil chemistry has been defeated!!! AMIN NA MIRIMA! YES! Er..yes, forgive my sugar.I'm just happy. (chemistry is gone for a while, going to THE MOVIE soon, and a thanks to Psycho-35803 for the chocolate, yes, listening to a cd called "the universe" with Legolas's theme song.much goodness.)  
  
The next day was, for Sivi and her friends, absolutely fruitless. The best plan that any one had come up with in the span of sixteen hours -- from seven in the morning until eleven at night -- was to accost Elendil, Isildur, and Gil-galad at the predecided spot and do their best to distract or delay them until the battle was over. Then Sivi had pointed out that the battle could not BE over until Isildur arrived to cut the One from the Enemy's finger.  
  
"Maybe if we distract them long enough for one of us to ride ahead to Orodruin with a chainsaw..." Christina suggested sarcastically. She was, of course, not serious, and the only one who took her seriously was Legolas, who wanted to know what a chainsaw was.  
  
Sivi decided that the only thing that she could do to aid the elf-king was to wait until she saw Gil-galad that night in her dreams, tell him everything, and beg him not to go.  
  
Meantime, Gil-galad, Elendil, and Isildur were at a very similar moment of indecision. Elendil and Isildur were having a quite heated argument over military tactics, how long each of them expected the siege to last, and so forth. Gil-galad simply sat back and watched them fight, wanting to go to sleep and talk to Sivi.  
  
Sivi waited for Gil-galad in her dream, standing impatiently by the ocean. She perceived dark, ugly clouds gathering ominously overhead. The falmar were choppy and murky black. Puzzled, she realized that she was wearing a dark green T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was in a tight braid down her back, and her feet were clad in snug velcroed sandals. The wind began to whistle fiercely in her ears, and she became frightened.  
  
"Ereinion?" she called. "Gil-galad?"  
  
Elendil was in the middle of a hotly delivered speech to his son Isildur when he saw Gil-galad stiffen visibly. The elf's eyes grew vague and distant. Then he looked sharply at Elendil and said angrily,  
  
"You may tell me the result of this pointless debate on the morrow. I am going to bed."  
  
He stalked out of the room, leaving the two men to stare after him. Once in his chamber, he flung himself down onto his bed without even removing his boots. Determinedly, he fixed his eyes on nothing and was soon asleep.  
  
"Sivi?" he cried as he appeared on the shore. A voice from down the beach called his name above the now screaming winds. It was Sivi, but he was puzzled to see her in strange, foreign looking pants and sandals and a loose, unbelted, short-sleeved shirt. She ran to meet him and threw herself into his arms.  
  
Gil-galad wasn't sure whether to be ecstatic, alarmed, or just plain astounded. His arms encircled her shoulders of their own accord. Before he could say a word, Sivi began to speak so quickly that her could barely understand her. She babbled something about the Elven Rings, another time, another world, Isildur, the Enemy, something called a lawnmower, and then blurted that if he went to battle the next day, he would be killed.  
  
"Melui, Melui," he cried, trying to calm her enough that he might make sense of her words.  
  
A wave broke violently on the shore, splattering them up to their thighs with salt water. Gil-galad, keeping his head, as any noble son of royalty will, pulled Sivi further up onto the beach, away from the tide's groping wet fingers.  
  
"Melui, please be still," he begged. "I do not understand what you are trying to tell me. Slowly and calmly; we have the whole dream before us."  
  
"Please, please don't ride to the siege tomorrow," she managed, starting to cry.  
  
"Why not?" Gil-galad asked, though he feared he already knew.  
  
"You will die," she sobbed, clinging to his shoulders as though she might ensnare him in the dream and so prevent him from riding to his death. A silver ribbon of lightning illuminated the brewing sky and boiling sea. Another wave lashed out at their feet, but this time, neither of them paid it heed.  
  
"How can you know that?" Gil-glad asked sensibly. "Who knows what will happen tomorrow?"  
  
"You don't understand!" Sivi protested. "My friends and I are --"  
  
A thunderous breaker completely swallowed them both, yanking them aggressively into the swelling sea. Had Gil-galad been in only a shirt, tunic, and leggings, he would have been the lighter of the pair, as he was an elf. However, in all three of his most recent dreams, he had been arrayed in his crown and armor; thus, it was Sivi who fought to pull him to the surface, rather than the other way round.  
  
It was a hopeless, surreal struggle against the hostile elements. Sivi, a fair but by no means excellent swimmer, managed to pull the elf's head above the frothing waters. Immediately, he tried to push her from him.  
  
"Swim! Get out of here!"  
  
"You'll drown!" she screamed, clinging to his shoulder plate like a stubborn barnacle.  
  
"I don't matter! You do! Get out of here, Siobhan!"  
  
"Hold on to me, and we'll make it!" she returned, ignoring his words. "I thought Elven armor was light!"  
  
"MITHRIL is light! Even this is lighter than the armor of Men. If it's too heavy, LET GO!" he shouted in exasperation. "Let go if it's NOT too heavy!"  
  
She ignored him. Neither one of them drew any sort of comfort from the fact that it was a dream. It was an Elven dream, which meant that it would be probably less agonizing to drown in real life. Sivi had had dreams of her own death before; they had been anything but pleasant.  
  
"Let go of me, Sivi!"  
  
"I won't!"  
  
"Think it over, human child. How far will you go to save my life? Will you give yours?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
The dream came to an abrupt end. They lay both of them in bed, Sivi on her cot in the widow's house, Gil-galad in the tower of Ecthalion, breathing harder than either had ever done in his or her life. Sivi heard that final query over and over and over:  
  
"How far will you go to save my life? Will you give yours?"  
  
Over and over she heard her firm, undaunted answer:  
  
"Yes!" 


	15. Disappearing Elf Lord

Thank you, kind reviewers for both your praise and your patience. I hope that patience will hold yet a while longer, for the next few chapters are either imperfect or not written at all, but we will do our best to get them to you for your viewing pleasure as soon as is Elvenly possible. Without further ado, I, EHAB, give you Chapter Fifteen, "Disappearing Elf- lords."  
  
  
  
The next morning could not come quickly enough for poor Sivi, who had not slept at all after waking from her bizarre nightmare. She now awaited two visits: one by Joseph, Jeremie, and Legolas; the other by Gil-galad. Jeremie and Joseph arrived a bit earlier than she had expected, both with expressions of consternation.  
  
"We can't find Legolas," Jeremie declared miserably. "He went outside last night - said something about stars --, and he didn't come back in. We figured, you know, he's an elf; he likes the outdoors; he wants to sleep outside; yippee skip. But we can't find him."  
  
Sivi was, at this early hour of the morning, the only one who had made her way downstairs and had, in fact, already had breakfast. Alarmed, she rose from her seat at the table. What else was going to go wrong?  
  
"Let's go upstairs and wake the others," she said tiredly.  
  
Hurriedly, the three ascended the stairs and entered the widow's second-best bedroom, where five cots were lined neatly from one wall to the next. With a shock, they realized that three of the cots were unoccupied; one, of course, was Sivi's, for she had, as was said, risen early, but there were two empty cots besides. Sarah and Christina were gone.  
  
Sivi immediately set about shaking Andrea awake, roughly and without regard for the younger girl's muffled protests. Andrea sat up breathlessly. She looked at Sivi with a mixture of surprise and reproach, but seemed too flabbergasted to say anything.  
  
"Where are Sarah and Christina?" Sivi demanded sharply.  
  
"I don't know. Aren't they downstairs?"  
  
"No, they aren't downstairs!" Sivi fairly shouted. "Legolas is missing, too!"  
  
Andrea began to pay attention.  
  
Sivi turned on her heels and raced down the stairs. Jeremie stared after her.  
  
"I've never seen her like that before," he commented. "Usually she's so calm."  
  
"She's been a little stressed lately," said Megan from her cot. She had been quietly listening to the whole ordeal.  
  
"I think it has something to do with this Gil-galad person. She's been having some weird dreams lately, too, or so I gather from what she says while she's having them: crazy stuff about the sun, the stars, making it to shore, etc."  
  
"I hope she's okay," Joseph said worriedly.  
  
  
  
Sivi charged out of the house into a garishly sunny morning. Where she planned to go, she had no idea, but she had to find her friends.  
  
"Sivi!" came a fair voice from a little down the road. Hoping to see Legolas, she was nevertheless not disappointed to find Gil-galad hurrying towards her.  
  
"Ereinion," she addressed him, using his all but forgotten birth name.  
  
"Sivi, well met. I'm come to say goodbye."  
  
"Please don't go out there," she begged him again. "I tried to tell you last night, but -"  
  
"I think that we were both a little disoriented last night, even before the storm hit," Gil-galad said comfortingly. "You were saying something about a. 'lawnmower'?"  
  
"The lawnmower isn't the point! The point is -"  
  
"The point is that I am bound by duty, honour, and decency to be at the head of my army when they assault the Barad-dur," Gil-galad interrupted, shaking his sun-golden head.  
  
"The battle will be at Orodruin," Sivi corrected in absent-minded agony.  
  
Gil-galad shifted uneasily, unnerved by the way this young human so offhandedly foretold the future. She had warned him of impending death. A thought brought itself up out of his memory.  
  
"Last night you spoke of the Great Rings, the Elven Rings. You spoke of them at our meeting as well. Why?"  
  
"I have to come by those rings, Gil-galad. One way or another, I MUST take them with me when I leave. I tried to explain why last night, but I know I wasn't making any sense."  
  
She sighed and looked so wretchedly miserable that Gil-galad could scarcely stand it. Quicker than a wizard's thought, lest he change his mind, he removed the silver chain from around his neck and placed it about hers.  
  
"Melui, all that was lacking was for you to ask it of me," he whispered. "Im mel lle: I love you. Besides," he added, stepping back, away from her astonished gaze, "if your prophecies prove true, I soon won't have any more need of it."  
  
Before she could respond, he hurried away, leaving her alone in the widow's yard. Thus Andrea found her friend. She was alarmed to see that Sivi was crying.  
  
"Are you okay?" she asked urgently.  
  
"Do you want to come with me?" Sivi inquired, enunciating each word through her tears.  
  
"Where are we going?" Andrea asked in confusion.  
  
"O, we're just going to go and mug a couple of Elves."  
  
"WHAT?!" 


	16. Elffriend on the Edge

I, EHAB, would like to thank our reviewers for being so complimentary and for even taking the time to review. However, I would like to stop and answer the couple of "you'd better not's" that have come up in the recent reviews. I was first told that we had better not put Legolas in the middle of battle or allow him to be hurt in any way. Then I was told that if Sivi did anything to save the day, it would be considered "mary-suish." I would like to take the time to ask readers, speaking very seriously, what would NOT be mary-suish? As far as I can see, even writing a fic in which a child of Middle-Earth and a child of our world are united is "mary-suish". That's the point: to take anything and everything that can't happen in real life and make it happen in the story while at the same time making the story interesting and entertaining. Would you rather - and again I ask this in all honesty, and hope I will be given several opinions in new reviews - that we let Gil-galad die, or that we have Sivi or some other member of the group rescue him? If Sivi does nothing extraordinary, what will happen to Gil-galad? Please reply as soon as is convenient. ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy  
  
And to make note of some things: there are references to Wizard of Oz, Narnia, Joan of Ark, and Terry Pratchet. Any other's were added by EHAB and I can't think of them right now. And I will draw a picture for anyone who can tell me where the story Andrea thinks of comes from. ~Pheona~  
  
  
  
One piece of advice: Never mess with an elf-friend on the edge.  
  
Piece by piece, the two girls began removing the mail of Gil- galad's armor-bearers, leaving the senseless creatures only their white tunics and leggings. Sivi noticed apprehensively that the young Elves wore no gauntlets, but only slender golden bracers about their left wrists. She realized that these two would be expected to wield nothing but light bows, and perhaps a spear, so as to be more able to carry the gear of their sovereign. Sivi could use a sword. Sivi could throw a spear. Sivi could swing an axe. Sivi could not shoot a bow worth a bent penny.  
  
"So, how do you put this stuff on?" Andrea asked.  
  
Resignedly, Sivi helped the younger girl on with the strips of cloth that wound round the body to protect it from the weight and sharp edges of the armor. She slid the glittering mithril mailshirt over Andrea's head and wondered why the Elves even bothered with plate armor at all. Then she began meticulously fitting the plate armor about Andrea's diminutively slender form. All went well until she tried to affix the smaller of the two Elves' breastplates around Andrea's tiny torso. "We are in so much trouble," she murmured, watching the heavy piece of metal nearly slide off Andrea's left shoulder. The body of the young girl might, with some half-hearted wriggling, be made to fit through the hole designed for the warrior's neck. With a sigh, Sivi plunked the dull gold helmet down over Andrea's head, unsure whether to laugh or cry when it sank down so far that the younger girl could not see out of her glasses.  
  
"Do I HAVE to wear this thing?" Andrea asked piteously.  
  
"I didn't force you to come with me," Sivi reminded her friend, "but if you do want to come with me, then yes, you have to wear it. Did your mother ever let you ride your bike without a helmet?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Well, you'll be doing things a lot more dangerous than falling off a bicycle when we get to Orodruin. You are not going to face ten thousands of orcs, all nine Nazgul, armies of humans who've turned traitor, and the Enemy himself without proper protective gear." "Point conceded, but how am I gonna fight all that stuff if I can't SEE?"  
  
"One moment, let me think." Sivi paused, then nodded resolutely. "Here: you can have a bit of my padding cloth; we'll tuck it into your helmet so that it will fit a bit better. How's that?"  
  
"Cool."  
  
Sivi took the helmet and upturned it. She lined the top of it with a strip of thick, rough material. With a swift gesture she placed it upright on Andrea's head. It was not perfect, but it was quite an improvement. Cocking her head with a critical glint in her eye, she asked,  
  
"Better, then?"  
  
"Much," grinned Andrea.  
  
One of the Elven warriors stirred with a very muffled protest. Dredging up a paraphrased quote from C. S. Lewis' The Last Battle, Sivi knelt and said,  
  
"Friend, I have treated thee ill this day, but there was need. Perhaps if we meet again someday, I shall do thee a better turn."  
  
A tribute to the noble bearing of Elves, the young warrior made an attempt at sitting up straighter and nodded gravely and with great ceremony. He did not understand, but he was face to face with a lady, and a courteous lady (gentle in word if not in deed), who was obviously in rather an emergency situation. If she needed his armor. he couldn't think why she should, but if it helped her. well, he only hoped his lord, King Gil-galad, would understand. It wasn't exactly as if he could do anything about the situation, at any rate; whoever the girl was, she was an extraordinary fighter, and what was more, knew her knots. His cords were tight, though not painful, and he could not begin to go about breaking them.  
  
"I have. arranged. for someone to find you before long, but after we have gone far enough that you cannot follow us. Will you tell me where are your mounts?" she asked, undoing his gag for a moment.  
  
"My lady, I do not understand, but if you are in distress -"  
  
"I am," she put in softly and earnestly; "I go to save the life of your king."  
  
Astounded, he murmured,  
  
"They are stabled with King Gil-galad's own steed, in the outer ring of the city," he murmured. "They are dappled gray stallions, so alike as to be twin foals. The king's horse is white."  
  
"I thank you, my friend. I must place this about your mouth again, but it will be removed soon enough; else I should not do it with, as Marcus Brutus said, 'half so good a will.'"  
  
"I know not who is this Marcus Brutus, but I hold no ill will for you, my lady. Bind my mouth, if you must -" and the elf coined one of our most famous expressions, "- for I do not intend to bite you."  
  
With a wry smile, Sivi gently but firmly wrapped the cloth back into place through the elf's teeth and around his head. Not knowing what else to say, she stood up and began to gird herself in his armor. He watched her skeptically, raising his eyebrows as he realized that she knew what she was about. When she had done, he gave her an approving nod.  
  
"May God bless you, friend," she whispered, and behind the gag he smiled.  
  
"It disturbs me to no end," Andrea said dryly, "that you look good in Elven armor. You remind me of some one, but I can't think who it is."  
  
The Elf grinned at Sivi, who grinned back. The armor-bearer seemed to have figured out that Andrea was not quite as suited as Sivi for this kind of work. As they turned to leave, Andrea looked up and said,  
  
"Oh, I know who it is! You look like Joan of Arc!"  
  
The younger girl then promptly proceeded to miss her footing on the stairs outside of the armor-bearers' quarters and topple in a rather undignified manner down to the landing below. She looked like a bronze ball of tinfoil set to rolling. Sivi turned back to the young elf.  
  
"Will you please pray for us?" she asked pleadingly.  
  
With raised brows, he nodded vehemently. In a way, Sivi found that reassuring, but in another way. she did not.  
  
  
  
Legolas could not think. His mind was reeling. It was not possible. He was looking into a mirror, staring at a young elf with bright eyes, golden hair, high cheekbones, a broad nose - he was looking at himself. It had to be. Yet, it couldn't be! In this time, he had not yet been born.  
  
"Greetings," he said in a hushed tone.  
  
"And to you," replied the other elf gravely. "I am Thranduil of the Sindarin."  
  
No. No, no, no, no. Legolas nearly blacked out. His father, his father was here, a younger elf without the venerability of great age, with only the innocence of his youth.  
  
NO.  
  
"I am Legolas," he managed. "I. am also of the Sindarin."  
  
"Then we are kin," said Thranduil with a light smile.  
  
Legolas came as close as any elf had ever come to losing his mind without actually managing to snap.  
  
"So, did you volunteer or were you drafted?" Thranduil asked.  
  
"All the free peoples of Ea would fight against the evil of Mordor," replied Legolas, glad for a change of the subject, "but I was drafted before I could volunteer."  
  
"Ah. So was I."  
  
"When do we begin the day's march?" Legolas inquired.  
  
"Whenever King Gil-galad arrives."  
  
  
  
Andrea looked around at the elves preparing for war. Half memories of fantasy stories gone mad played in her head. One story set itself into her mind. It went somewhat like this: Two girls went to kill a Grendel to save the world. Trick was, the only thing than would kill it was a cursed sword that would change any human who touched it into another Grendel. One of the girls went for the love of an elf, the other for the friendship of the first. The second had died before the end of the first book. A hard lump formed in her stomach and her throat went dry. Andrea reminded herself that she was in Tolkien's word, which had no monster creating swords (merely Gollum creating rings). What WAS she doing here?!  
  
"Stay close and let me talk." Sivi commanded. Her voice wavered in a un- Sivi-like fashion.  
  
There were times Andrea wondered at her choices as she made them. Now was one of those times. There is nothing without loyalty, because all is loneliness without friendship. She had heard that somewhere. It was true now. Andrea felt like the Robin to Sivi's Batman. (Or perhaps the Sam to Sivi's Frodo)  
  
'Well Toto, we're not in Kansas and we missed oz and quite possibly the lamp post too.'  
  
She would follow Sivi to wherever this mad plan of hers would leave them. Then she intended to find Legolas and live the rest of her life in a world of cuddles, happy endings, and sunshine. She could question her sanity along the way. "In life, as in breakfast cereal, it is always best to read the instructions on the box." She mumbled quietly. 


	17. The Definition of Friendship

"So this is what troops do on the way to a battle," Sivi mused thoughtfully: "March, stop to eat, march, stop to sleep, march... He never really told me."  
  
"Well, in our case, really, it's ride, stop to eat, ride, stop to sleep," Andrea pointed out. "I feel sorry for the poor elfies that half to walk. I never knew you and Gil-galad talked about the battle," she added curiously.  
  
The two were riding a few feet behind the Elven-king, talking quietly. Behind them, the sun was beginning to set in the west.  
  
"We didn't," Sivi said, frowning. "Well, I tried to tell him not to go, but he wouldn't listen."  
  
"Well, if you didn't talk to Gil-galad about it, then who's the 'he' who never really told you what troops do?"  
  
Sivi became very quiet. Andrea let it go. Sivi had a habit of clamming up when questions got too personal.  
  
Besides, Andrea had enough to worry about with trying to stay on the horse. She was trying to keep her center of gravity where it was supposed to be. This was no easy feat when she was attired in over half her body-weight's worth of armour.  
  
If she looked down too often, she knew that she would fall, so she tried to find something else to focus on. Her eyes fell on the stiff, white plumage of Gil-galad's crown. The feathers of the crest fanned vertically downward, catching the last sunlight. They glittered a radiant white-golden.  
  
"Pretty," Andrea murmured, entranced.  
  
"Hmm?" said Sivi, glancing around to see what her friend was talking about.  
  
"I want to play with that," Andrea whispered, leaning slightly forward on the horse.  
  
This turned out to be a very bad idea. She lost her balance and rolled over the horses neck with a clamour. Gil-galad reined in his horse, executing a pinpoint turn, and halted the army. With typical Elven grace, he swung a leg over the horse's back and dismounted.  
  
"What happened?" he demanded with a daunting frown.  
  
Sivi leapt lightly from her mount's back.  
  
"Sh -" she began, then realized that "she" was not the best word to let Gil- galad hear at the moment. "Mellon nin," she recovered, "feels not well."  
  
This was entirely true; given the pretzel-like position of Andrea's body, Sivi guessed that that was about an eleven point eight on the younger girl's pain scale. Sivi bent and began pulling Andrea to her feet, then heaving her back onto the horse.  
  
"Say nothing," she whispered as Andrea's ear passed her mouth. "Do not speak at all."  
  
Andrea nodded numbly, everything hurting. Gil-galad was back up on his horse and pointed eastward again in the time it took for Andrea to nod once. I wish I could ride like that, she thought miserably.  
  
Sivi was honing the spears she and Andrea had managed to get away with carrying in place of their bows. At least, no one had said anything to her yet. Her helmet was beside her on the ground.  
  
"It was brave of you to take up for him like that," Gil-galad's voice said behind her. Sivi's stomach did three somersaults, but she managed to keep her voice calm. He had not seen her face yet, and most of her hair was tucked down inside her armour. He did not recognize her, or he would not be so suave. If she could keep her back to him... She pushed one of the spears harder and louder against her whetstone.  
  
"Your pardon, my lord king?" she said in an emotionless tone.  
  
"It was good of you to stand up for him that way," Gil-galad repeated.  
  
"If your friend were in pain, what would you do, Your Highness?" she turned it back on him.  
  
"Is it an old wound?" Gil-galad pressed. "I have heard that sometimes old scars bring premonition of fresh pain."  
  
Sivi groaned within herself. She had forgotten that Elves did not get sick. What should she say to him? She could not lie outright.  
  
"My friend was in pain. I do not ask that many questions."  
  
"What is your name?" he asked.  
  
"I do not matter," she replied, scraping furiously against the whetstone.  
  
"Everyone matters," he returned, "and I, thy sovereign, would know thy name."  
  
"Caranlas," she answered, using yet another of her Elven names. ( It meant 'red-golden leaf,' because of Sivi's bronze-coloured hair.)  
  
"And your friend's?"  
  
"Wilye," Sivi blurted, then had to choke on her laughter. Wilye was a form of 'vilya,' meaning 'air.' Christina had given Andrea this nickname during one of Andrea's more Squee-like displays of emotion. Sivi wondered what Andrea would do to her when the Elven-King of the Noldor called the younger girl an air-head. Most likely, she would get hit over the head with Andrea's stuffed Care-bear.  
  
  
  
Sivi sat in the light of the fire, thinking hard about several things in succession. She was a strange figure in silver leggings and a mithril coat, her long hair unkempt around a soot-dusted face. Behind her, Andrea was shivering beneath her cloak.  
  
She doesn't deserve this, flew the thought across Sivi's mind. I never should have asked her to come. She was so worried about Legolas, but she dropped everything for me. For ME. Sivi moaned softly and dropped her head into the cradle of her arms. Her conscience began to hurl horrible names at her: selfish, uncaring, conceited...fool.  
  
"Oh, Jesus," she breathed into the stillness. "My Lord, I messed up. So bad. God, I don't trust anybody because I don't trust myself. I always want to do things myself, to prove to myself that I can. But I can't. I can't. And I tried to do this on my own, and I've already failed, and I've dragged Andrea into my failure. Please forgive me, Lord. I should have trusted You. Please help us through this battle, and please don't let Andrea get hurt.  
  
"Lord, I'm confused, too. Gil-galad... he's supposed to die. Very soon, his time in this world will be spent. Yet You set him squarely in my path and gave him such feelings for me that if I asked him for the boots of the Enemy, I really think he would try to pull them off -"  
  
"But I bet the Enemy's feet really stink."  
  
Sivi paused.  
  
"Pardon me for a moment, Lord Jesus," she murmured, then turned to look at Andrea. "WHY are you awake?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your prayer. I didn't mean to say that out loud." Andrea sat up and looked worriedly at her friend. "I've been praying a lot, too. You don't have to be scared for me, Sivi."  
  
Sivi sighed.  
  
"Why did you come? You were so upset over Legolas being gone, and I didn't even care. What kind of a friend am I?"  
  
"You weren't thinking about that when you asked me to come. I wasn't either, really. You were hurting, so I came," Andrea shrugged. "You've been my best friend for longer than Legolas... which is kind of weird, considering I met him first."  
  
"You were hurting, too," Sivi answered. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"It's okay. Really it is. Finish praying. Then we'll talk," Andrea said, and rolled back down beneath her cloak. Smiling softly, Sivi turned her eyes heaven ward and whispered,  
  
"Sorry. Where were we?"  
  
Silently, she continued,  
  
"I don't know what to do about Gil-galad. Can I change what's supposed to happen? If I do, won't there be serious repercussions throughout this world's history? I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Lord, You take over. I'm giving this to You. Do what You will. In Jesus' name, Amen."  
  
She was quiet a moment, then said,  
  
"I'm done."  
  
Andrea pushed herself up again.  
  
"Do you have a plan?" she asked.  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you scared?"  
  
"Yes. Not so much as I was, though," Sivi admitted. " 'So much death,'" she recited. " 'What can men do against such reckless hate?'"  
  
"Who told you that?"  
  
"Never mind," Sivi muttered.  
  
"Whoever it was, I guess they were right, sort of," Andrea sighed. "What CAN we do?"  
  
"Nothing," Sivi replied coolly. "WE can do absolutely nothing... But our God has the situation well in hand."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"It means He's got it covered." 


	18. Shattered Dreams

Note to Reviewers: Once again, thank you for your wonderful reviews and for your ever-enduring patience. ***Please be sure to read Chapter Nineteen once it is posted; it will explain some events of this chapter.*** ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy  
  
It was time. Orodruin stood massive and black before Gil-galad's bright eyes, erupting violently. A tidal wave of orcs rose up and broke upon the Elven ranks. Aiglos flashed forward into Gil-galad's foes, dispatching them neatly and quickly. He and his powerful mount moved as one. The horse's muscles rippled beneath the king. There was no glory in a war, Gil-galad reflected; only blood, death, and hate. Yet if by blood, death, and hate he could free his people...  
  
A voice that only Gil-galad seemed to hear began to sing, high and clear, as it were from among the stars. He paused, listening, and to his astonishment the voice sang of him. It was Sivi's voice, came the thought, and thus she sang:  
  
"Gil-galad was an Elven-king.  
  
Of him the harpers sadly sing:  
  
The last whose realm was fair and free  
  
Between the Mountains and the Sea.  
  
His sword was long, his lance was keen,  
  
His shining helm afar was seen;  
  
The countless stars of heaven's field  
  
Were mirrored in his silver shield.  
  
But long ago he rode away,  
  
And where he dwelleth none can say;  
  
For into darkness fell his star  
  
In Mordor where the shadows are."  
  
Chills washed over Gil-galad's body. She sang of him as a fallen legend; a myth, and no more. Within him his heart broke. His fair lips whispered,  
  
"Melui, melui..."  
  
The wind took his words.  
  
A terrible shadow appeared at the foot of Orodruin. Tears in his eyes, Gil-galad raised Aiglos in challenge. "How dare you take me from her?" he cried out.  
  
The Enemy paid him no heed, trampling and killing unchecked. In horror, Gil-galad watched Elendil fall. From the corner of his eye, he saw Isildur reach for the hilt of shattered Narsil. The Enemy gave a cry like a wild beast's. Gil-galad saw a piece of gold fall through the air: the One Ring. The Enemy began to fall, and a heat like scorching flame poured over Gil-galad, searing his body. He had never known such pain. A forlorn echo reached him inside his dark, sweltering prison:  
  
"Into darkness fell his star,  
  
In Mordor where the shadows are."  
  
  
  
The heat was gone, and he was on the cold earth looking up into the eyes of his love. His face ached like the rest of his body, but for her sake he forced a smile.  
  
"Ereinion," she whispered, a sole tear slipping down her cheek onto his burning brow. It felt wonderful, but:  
  
"No," he said in a gasping breath. "You are... too beautiful for tears. Not... not on my account... melui..."  
  
With one last struggling exhalation, the stars in his eyes winked out, and his spirit left him. He was suddenly standing, watching Sivi kneel over a broken body... his body. She gripped his shoulders and shook them desperately, sobbing and calling his name. Then she screamed. The world reeled. The stars shook.  
  
"Siobhan, Siobhan!" he cried.  
  
It was too late. He was dead, and the voice of his spirit could not reach her. He thought he heard Mandos call his name.  
  
"No. I am a king and a warrior. The Halls of Resting are not for me. Not yet! Not yet..." he pleaded.  
  
He watched as his body was lain on a long buckler and borne away as Siobhan wept on the ground. 


	19. Meanwhile, In the Land of the Living

After Andrea had fallen asleep, Sivi was restless. She got up and began strolling among the campsites. Finally, she decided that she would go and take Gil-galad's sword and shield, perhaps his spear, and polish them.  
  
She approached the king's dying fire and picked up his sword. As she glanced around for Aiglos, she noticed that Gil-galad was tossing and turning violently.  
  
"No," he murmured. "Not yet! Not yet..."  
  
Sivi debated for a moment, then pulled the hood of her silver cloak over her face and dropped to one knee by the Elven-king's side. She shook his shoulders gently. Risking everything, she whispered,  
  
"Ereinion?"  
  
He woke and sat up with a start. Sivi pulled herself up behind him, taking advantage of his moment of confusion.  
  
"My liege?" she asked concernedly.  
  
"Sivi?" Gil-galad was still looking frantically around, certain he'd heard her. Perhaps it had been part of his horrific dream...  
  
"A nightmare, my lord king?"  
  
"Nightmare..." The word was too tame for what he'd just experienced. Gil- galad shook away his hopes and fears and grinned sheepishly at the hooded elf standing over him. "Yes, I suppose so. Is that you, Caranlas?"  
  
"Yes, my lord," she replied. "Be not ashamed. The mightiest warrior in Ea may have bad dreams."  
  
Gil-galad smiled and dusted off the knees of his leggings.  
  
"I suppose so. What are you doing here?"  
  
"I could not sleep. I thought to polish your weapons and return them before you had awoken."  
  
"Ah."  
  
There was a long silence. At last, the king tossed Sivi a cloth.  
  
"Stay and speak with me while you polish, then," he said amiably. "D'you want my help?"  
  
"No, my lord king, yet I thank you."  
  
"Your voice is deeper than most," the elf told her as she began to rub.  
  
"So I am told," she returned. Indeed, Sarah had often joked that Sivi sang soprano but spoke alto.  
  
"Have you ever had a lady, Caranlas?"  
  
Sivi smiled. I should hope not, she thought dryly.  
  
"No, my liege. Have you?"  
  
"No," said Gil-galad sadly. "I am hers, but she is not mine."  
  
Sivi's conscience slapped her again.  
  
"I am sorry, my lord," she said, apologizing in her heart for more than Gil- galad could realize.  
  
  
  
On the morning of Legolas' disappearance, Widow Dorwen approached Joseph. Tentatively, she handed him a piece of sketchbook paper that had been folded several times. Wringing her hands, she said nervously,  
  
"Ah foun' this on the floor by my bed, good sir. I don' know what i'says; I cannuh read."  
  
Joseph unfolded the paper and stared at it for a long moment. Then he muttered,  
  
"If they're still alive when I get hold of them, I'll kill them both."  
  
"What does it say?" Megan asked from the kitchen table.  
  
"It's written in Andrea's vernacular. It says, 'Mr. Joseph, don't worry about Sivi and me. We've gone with Gil-galad to Orodruin. We have to tie up the armour-bearers so we can use their armour, so if you could go to Ecthalion and let them go, that'd be really cool. Sivi says to go ahead and try to stop Elendil. See you on the battlefield, signed Andrea. P.S.: Tell the elf-guys we'll return their armour after the battle.'" 


	20. Elf Liberation Force

Hello from ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy! I would like to say that I did warn everyone to read Chapter Nineteen when it was posted, since it would explain some things about Chapter Eighteen. Even the title (Shattered "DREAMS") should have given a nice clue. However, I am fully aware that when reading things for the first time, one does not have the benefit of hindsight to help one derive conclusions from vague insinuations, so as I said, all is good. I am very grateful to all of our reviewers for the kind compliments we received, even on Chapter Eighteen, such as, "sad, but well- written" and "please continue." The approval of readers does mean a great deal to an author, as I am sure most of you know, having fics of your own. I am especially thrilled with the comments from our fellow Christians M' arevanye and Curlysloo. However, I will reiterate that Phe-Chan and I do intend to continue the fic as we originally planned. Wicked Lady, as to your request, I regret to say that the chapter you refer to has been written for months and will probably not be terribly altered, unless it be to make it match Chapters Seventeen through about Twenty-two or Twenty- three, which we are just now in the process of writing. I would like to mention here that a sequel to "Elven Dreams and Misadventures" is being planned and is, in fact, already being written. We do not intend to post this story until we have finished with both "Wishes of Golden Chain" and "Elven Dreams and Misadventures." Also, if any of our reviewers would like for Phe-Chan or me to read one of their own fics, please leave the name of the fic in one of your reviews and - provided that the fic is neither slash nor rated higher than PG-13 - we will attempt to read it and review.  
  
  
  
"I'm really sorry about all of this," Joseph told Gil-galad's armor-bearers as he, Jeremie, and Megan struggled with the cords that bound the young elves. "I don't know what's gotten into my daughter, that she would even think of doing this to anyone."  
  
"They were both very polite about the whole business," one elf said. His friend gave him a quizzical look. "You were still unconscious," the first elf explained. "After she attacked us, wrestled me to the ground, and took my armor, she apologized and said that she needed the armor to rescue King Gil-galad. She also told me that she had arranged for someone to find and free us and asked me to pray for them."  
  
"O, I see," said the second elf, a touch sarcastically, rubbing his wrist.  
  
"Which 'she' was this?" asked Megan, working at the ropes about the first elf's ankles.  
  
"There was a tall girl with russet hair and gray eyes. That was she," the first elf replied.  
  
"That would be Sivi, Mr. Joseph's daughter," Megan said. "What's your name?"  
  
"I am Erynen, son of Amanen," replied the first elf. "My companion is Erynsir, son of my father's brother Amansir."  
  
"We're very pleased to meet you," Jeremie returned. "I'm Jeremie, son of, uh, Mike. Megan--?"  
  
"I'm Megan, daughter of Gregory."  
  
"And I am Joseph, son of Elmer."  
  
"And we are all at one another's service, I am most certain," said Erynsir with a polite impatience. "Yet, an if it should please thee, Joseph the son of Elmer, I believe that I should like a more complete and satisfactory account of the justifications of the attack upon our persons."  
  
"Sorry, what?" Joseph said with raised brows.  
  
"He wants to know why he got jumped," Megan supplied in a bored tone.  
  
"Jumped, Lady Megan?" Erynen asked, watching her with a rather odd look on his face.  
  
"Attacked."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Well, it's sort of a long story," Joseph spoke up, "and we have to catch up to Gil-galad and Elendil. If you could wait until we get back -"  
  
"No," Erynsir interrupted firmly. "My lord, your daughter is subject to your just pleasure, so long as that pleasure be truly just. When she does well, yours is the due credit. When she acts rashly, to the harm of another's well being, the fault is yours to answer or to answer for. My cousin and I are wronged and needs must be properly redressed. I do not ask for a great deal; if Erynen wishes, he may demand more of you, and you perforce must pay it, to the lasting credit of your honor. All that I require is the knowledge of why I have been 'jumped,' as the daughter of Gregory sees fit to speak it."  
  
Joseph sighed and blew a bronze ringlet of hair upwards. He looked at Megan with a wry smile.  
  
"Translation, please?"  
  
"He wants an explanation. You owe him that explanation. You don't owe it to him later. You owe it to him now."  
  
"Well, then," Joseph replied, "we'd best sit down again, 'cause we're gonna be here a while."  
  
Jeremie and Megan had expected Joseph to begin with the fact that Gil- galad was in danger and then explain their meager plans for the king's rescue; hence the simultaneous looks of surprise they shared when Joseph proceeded to start his tale with Legolas' arrival in New York and the concept that there were, indeed, worlds besides Ea, from one of which he and his companions came. Hastily, they recovered themselves. After all, Joseph's story would be hard enough for the two elves to accept without Megan and Jeremie looking as if they had no idea what their friend was talking about.  
  
By the time Joseph had finished, the eyebrows of the armor-bearers could not be seen; they were camouflaged in the elves' hairlines. Erynen was incredulous. Erynsir was scornful. "You lie very poorly," was all that he said.  
  
"Look," said Jeremie, losing his generous patience at last, "we've already told you that we have somewhere important to be. We gave you what you asked for: the truth. Now we're leaving. C'mon, guys," he continued, "let's get out of here."  
  
As they got to their feet, Jeremie turned again to the startled elves and added,  
  
"You know, we didn't have to set you guys loose, but we did. That alone should have taken care of any 'debts' we might have owed you. I don't think we owed you anything. We didn't know what Sivi was going to do. We had no way of stopping her. That means that not only did we set you free without any obligation to do so, we wasted our valuable time giving you an explanation that we never had to give, which you then proceeded to throw back in our faces. I really think the two of you owe US something."  
  
"I apologize for calling you liars," Erynsir conceded with aforced humility, "but you must confess that your story is the most unlikely of tales."  
  
"Yeah, I'll confess that," Jeremie answered, "but it's still true."  
  
"Whether or not the tale is true, we do indeed owe you a debt of gratitude for our freedom," Erynen spoke up. "However, I agree with and uphold my cousin's statement that you owed us a debt for your daughter's actions, since a father is responsible for his child. Therefore each debt may be canceled by the other, an if you be willing."  
  
"We are," Joseph agreed. "If you want us to prove our story, Erynsir, you can come with us and it'll all get verified."  
  
"We shall indeed," Erynsir answered gravely.  
  
"Peachy," Megan said. "Can we go now, or are we going to nitpick details for another three years?" 


	21. Track The Army

Thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed! May you be showered in chocolate nuggets! (Mmm.) And to ElfSpinster, YAY! You knew it! As you wish, I shall creat a picture of Melior for you. I do need your email first though. (If you write a fanfic, let me know) I'm so happy that someone actually knew of that series. Everyone needs to go find and read "The Twelve Treasures" by Rosemary Edghill. The first book is especially good. (Elf meets New York, you read this and like it, so no arguments.) Well, that's about it for now. EHAB says "Hey!" (Actually, she says something long and involving much elvish, but the summary is Hey and Thanks.)  
  
~Pheona~  
  
Chapter 21: Track The Army  
  
"Are we lost?" Jeremie asked suddenly.  
  
"No, we're about a day's journey from the Crossroads," Megan replied easily. "How could we get lost? We're following the tracks of an army."  
  
"Elves don't leave tracks," Joseph pointed out.  
  
"No, but Elendil's troops are human," Erynen spoke up in Megan's defense.  
  
"Excuse me, guys," Jeremie said, "but what are the 'Crossroads'?"  
  
"Did you ever READ The Lord of the Rings?" Megan asked pointedly.  
  
"Yeah, but I don't memorize every detail the way that you and Sivi do."  
  
"Peace, people," Joseph interceded. "The Crossroads are exactly what their name implies: a meeting of two roads so that the traveler can choose to go in one of four directions. We'll head north."  
  
"Why north?" Jeremie inquired.  
  
"We must skirt the Ered Lui and the Ephel Duath," Erynsir explained.  
  
"So -- wait. We're going through the Dead Marshes?" jeremie balked.  
  
"Just the southern tip of them," Megan reassured him.  
  
"The Dead Marshes?" Erynen frowned.  
  
"The wetlands south of the Emyn Muil," Joseph supplied helpfully.  
  
"So, run the entire plan by me one more time, specifics and all," Jeremie requested. "Where are we supposed to catch up with Elendil?"  
  
"Right about the time we hit the marshes," Joseph answered.  
  
"And when we do meet up with him, what happens?"  
  
"We have no idea," Megan laughed.  
  
For some days, they continued thus. Legolas became as accustomed to his much younger father as he possibly could; Sivi and Andrea endeavored to avoid the notice of the Elven-king; and Megan, Jeremie, and Joseph, along with their new friends, made good time and gained much lost ground in their attempt to intercept the kings of the Last Alliance. In this manner, the Crossroads appeared and were left behind, both parties turned north-east and held their course for a time, and nothing very noteworthy took place. Still, no one knew what had become of Sarah and Christina, and we will not pause here to tell you.  
  
When at last the mire and muck of the rancid bog was seen on the dismal horizon, comes it as such a great surprise that none rejoiced? For Joseph, the moment was twice as awful. What now was he to do? How to direct his companions? He had but the night to think it over.  
  
"Jeremie, you and Erynen make a fire. Megan, Erynsir, come with me. We're close enough now to go and at least circle the army before dawn. I'm not sure what good it will do, but it might help to know who's where."  
  
The three of them set about circling the whole of the army's camp. They gave it as wide a berth as they could without defeating their own purpose as scouts, for the majority of the Elves were still awake around their fires. Most of the Men were already snoring hard. (This might have explained why so few of the Elves were asleep.)   
  
After they had slipped silently around over half the army, a light voice hailed them out of the gloom joseph's stomach somersaulted. Then the last person they had expected came forward to meet them. They could not see him very well, since he was enshrouded in the same shadows as they, but it was Legolas.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Megan asked, delighted.  
  
"I was drafted," Legolas explained tiredly. "And you?"  
  
"We're still trying to figure out what to do," Joseph admitted.  
  
"Who is this?" Legolas asked, indicating Erynsir.  
  
"I am Erynsir, son of Amansir. I joined your party at Minas Tirith the day after you were discovered missing, as did Erynen my cousin, who has remained at our camp with your companion Jeremie. Friend Joseph," he added, "your story is here corroborated. Forgive me my hasty tongue and unbelieving heart."  
  
Joseph grinned.  
  
"Sah-right."  
  
"As touching our plans for tomorrow," Legolas spoke up, "you might lead the kings into the marshes -- if you were certain that you could lead them out again."  
  
"We're not certain of much of anything at this point, except that God is both Sovereign and Good," Megan said, "and that Jesus is Lord and will take care of us."  
  
"Amen," answered Joseph. "Knowing that that's true, I say we take the Elves on a wild goose chase."  
  
"I don't think geese could live in that swamp. Maybe a Marshwiggle could," Megan chuckled, "but not a goose."  
  
As one, Erynsir and Legolas asked,  
  
"What is a Marshwiggle?" 


	22. The Way Through the Marshes

Ellen sila lumenn omentielvo, melloni! This is ElfHuntressAutumnBurgundy wishing you a very good day, and thanking you for your extremely highly valued patience. Just a few notes, and I will then refer to you Chapter Twenty-Two. ***Translations of some of the text used in this chapter run as follows: 'Kyrie, Christe,' I believe, is Latin for 'Mercy, Christ.' 'Terra firma' is Latin for 'firm earth.' 'S'il Vous plait' is French for 'if You please' (and yes, both Vous and You are supposed to be capitalized, as the 'You' in this instance refers to God). Also, the word 'oped' is an archaic Shakespearean abbreviation for 'opened' and is NOT a typo.*** This chapter reveals a little about Megan. Read her comments carefully before you make any assumptions about her character. Also, I would like here to note that the character of Christina (who is not in this chapter, but needs to be mentioned here) was modeled after a friend of mine whom I had a great deal of respect for, and who gave me permission to use her personality in this fic. Sadly, "Christina" has passed away recently, and I would like for all of our readers please to remember her family in their prayers. Phe-Chan and I have decided that, as she did express her desire to be included in this fanfiction, it would not be disrespectful to continue to use her character to bring people smiles. Thank you for your prayer support.  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Gil-galad had, from his brief talk with Sivi's father, judged Joseph to be a calm, reasonable man. Therefore, when Joseph, the young human boy, one of the human girls, and two unknown Elves rode straight out in front of the hooves of Elendil's mount, Gil-galad was too stunned to speak or to acknowledge the man. Elendil drew his sword before Gil-galad could stop him. In reply, Joseph yelled and pulled a small, sleek, black machine out from within his shirt. He pointed at the ground beneath Elendil's horse, pulled back a lever on top of the device, and touched a mechanism near the thing's base. A noise like a thunderclap rang out, a stone beneath Elendil's horse splintered into fragments, and the animal reared in terror. Joseph wheeled his horse around and made for the marshes. Without consulting the Elven-king, Elendil and his son followed.  
"Your dad carries a gun?" Andrea whispered.  
  
Sivi gave her friend a funny look.  
  
"Duh, we live in New York City. Don't YOU carry a gun?"  
  
Andrea stared.  
  
"Oh, for crying out loud, don't look at me like that! We have permits," Sivi said in exasperation.  
  
"Whatever," Andrea sighed, her head beginning to hurt for about the eleventh time that day. "What are they trying to do?"  
  
"I think they were trying to get Gil-galad into the marshes and keep him there until we can manage to end the battle, but he's too level-headed to be goaded into such foolishness. Daddy should know that. I just hope those Elves, whoever they were, know their way around the marshes, or Daddy, Jeremie, and Megan are in trouble.  
  
As it happened, Erynen and Erynsir had no idea how to navigate the marshes, but they were offering both their best efforts and their most fervent prayers. So was Megan, but for a strangely different reason. Her practicality and gentle sense of humanity mingled to worry her greatly on one point: they were riding HORSES through a BOG.  
  
The poor beasts' hooves were sinking ankle-deep into the mire as with jerks so quick and frightened that they looked like a sored walking-horse's prancing, they attempted to safely traverse the swamp. Megan, a former native of the Deep South of the United States, where she and her family had kept horses, knew their peril. At this rate, it was only a matter of time before one of the mounts stumbled blindly into the middle of a sink-hole, and then nothing would save it.  
  
"Mr. Joseph, not to be disrespectful, but - but this is crazy," she protested suddenly. "We're NOT in a fairy tale, and these horses CANNOT swim across a MARSH! This is cruel, inhumane, and just plain stupid! Well, I mean - I don't mean that; it's NOT stupid. It's just that we're desperate, and I understand that, really, I do, but - but -"  
  
"I know, Meggie," Joseph replied, "but do we really have a choice?"  
  
"Can't we let them go back and us go on on foot?"  
  
"Listen, Lady Megan," Erynen said, impressed in spite of himself with Megan's concern for the animals, "you must see that they are in as much peril in going back as they would be in going on. Also, Elendil is proud. He will not abandon his mount, and should he overtake us, we are dead, and you are Isildur's."  
  
"I'm WHAT?!" Megan shouted.  
  
"Isildur will claim you, an if he can catch you," Erynsir nodded.  
  
"Another point," Jeremie added, "is that - and I know this is going to sound awful, but it's true - if the horse begins to sink, the rider has an opportunity to save himself or herself."  
  
"Yet an if you on foot should become mired down," Erynen continued for Jeremie, "there is precious little hope for you life."  
  
Miserably, Megan nodded, patting her horse's neck with a regretful affection. Reluctantly, the group pressed onward. For some weeks, they traveled south and east without loss of human, elven, or animal life. The Hand of Providence was evident enough in this last blessing to have convinced the most defiant atheist, for ever the treacherous earth moved, shifted, sank, or collapsed beneath the mounts as the little band battled their way through at as fast a pace as they could safely avail themselves of. But in the mists they lost sight of Elendil and Isildur.  
  
Elendil and his son were warriors, not trackers, but the deep prints in the broken, soupy earth were all too plain. Isildur was contemptuous of his "foes," but the fact that this was too easy made his more prudent father nervous. They proceeded, according to Elendil's direction, in a brisk but cautious manner.  
  
It needs must be noted and retained that the horses of Elendil and his son sank all the more deeply into the grime because of the added weight of the men's armour and weaponry, as well as the thick-plated mail of the horses themselves.  
  
The weeks passed as slowly for the two men as for "Joseph & Co.," and Elendil's good judgment waned from fatigue and temper. All this, then, in reparation for a single insult? It seemed to his mind that these trials punished him and his son more than the guilty party.  
  
At last, they sighted the misfit band through the wretched tatters of a phantom fog. Elendil, angry and exhausted, left the path of wisdom and spurred his horse cruelly, straight through a gruesome black pool. Flailing and thrashing in a magnificent effort, the terrified animal wrestled its way to firmer ground and struggled to obey its master's most irrational commands. Isildur followed his father without question or comment.  
  
By virtue of the distraught cries of Elendil's horse, Joseph and his friends were alerted to the king's presence.  
  
"Looks like it's crunch time," Jeremie said, grabbing up the reins of his mount and ignoring the two Elves' quizzical expressions.  
  
"We'll explain 'crunch-time' later," Joseph told Erynsir. "Let's go, people; now, now, now!"  
  
"Kyrie, Christe," Megan pleaded aloud.  
  
"And terra firma, s'il Vous plait," Jeremie added with a forced laugh.  
  
The ensuing pursuit was like an Elven nightmare. The king and his son pushed their beasts beyond the limits of reasonable possibility, and Joseph and his friends were forced to do likewise to avoid destruction. The soil itself was at once their greatest ally and deadliest nemesis.  
  
In one smooth yawn, it oped its cavernous maw to receive Gondor's king, who in his rage saw not his danger, and swallowed him whole. The ragged mist did him honour to become his burial shroud. Through the silence sliced the scream of a man who knows his father to be irrevocably lost.  
  
Joseph and his friends stopped in their tracks, listening, but there was no more sound. Horrified, Megan let out a broken sob. Erynen drew his mount nearer hers and softly touched her arm in an admirable gesture of comfort.  
  
"We were trying to RESCUE them," Jeremie whispered in a tone of icy shock.  
  
"We... we can't stay here," Joseph said at length. "We need to go on."  
  
Isildur thrust the blade of his sword into the soft earth before what had become his father's tomb with a nod of respect. He then took up Narsil, which Elendil's hand had loosed during his fall, mounted his steed, and rode sorrowfully away. Thus Elendil son of Amandil, forbear of Aragorn Estel, became the first terrible spectre of the Dead Marshes.  
For Gil-galad and his armour-bearers, the Fire Mountain loomed closer. 


	23. Many Meetings

Hey, peeps. What you are about to read is an example of what happens when a certain Elf Huntress gets carried away. The part at the end wasn't going ta happen, but with as much fluff as that, it can't be removed. EHAB says to add that you should pay attention to Sivi's weird "Gollum moment" and "the "glass" she speaks of is NOT TELEVISION." OK, I feel the art muse calling, must go draw chibis and listen to hyper music. A friend just gave me a CD of stuff like "The Pudding Song", "Follow the Sun" (That has to be Legolas's theme song!) and "The Rubber Ducky Song in German." Some times friends can be scary. Well, bye for now!  
  
~Phe-chan~  
  
It was the morning of the day on which the forces of Elves and Men would break in tempestuous rage over the armies of darkness. The two armor- bearers were by the Elven-king's side, at the moment lacing his shin- guards. Then, "Wilye" managed to affix Gil-galad's cloak as "Caranlas" braided his glittering crown into his dawn-golden hair.  
So proud, Caranlas thought with admiration, and so regal. My lord Gil- galad, you are every inch the king, and I wonder, do you know it?  
  
He loves you, said a voice from within her.  
  
I know that, she answered with an impatience that stemmed from guilt.  
  
He would cherish you forever -- and no matter what you told him, you know that you DO have forever.  
  
I know that. I KNOW that! Let me alone!  
  
Why are you so afraid to be close to someone?  
  
He's a king!  
  
You're a Keeper!  
  
Exactly; he wouldn't understand  
  
He, more than anyone, most CERTAINLY would understand!  
  
It doesn't matter. I won't.  
  
Won't what? Love him? Is that yours to control?  
  
LET. ME. ALONE.  
  
At least try once more to persuade him.  
  
"My lord king," Caranlas said suddenly.  
  
"What is it, Caranlas?" Gil-galad asked pleasantly.  
  
"Do not go, my lord," Caranlas pleaded, dropping to one knee.  
  
"What do you mean?" Gil-galad demanded.  
  
His complexion, normally as pale as an Elf's will ever naturally be, whitened so as to be a shade like a vampire's.  
  
"My lord knows full well what I mean," Caranlas said in a low voice, her eyes fixed upon the earth, "but I will say further: I have seen, in a glass more powerful than Altariel's, the Doom of Mandos falling with the death knell on the shoulders of the son of Fingon an if he should approach the Sammath Naur. Do you not go, my liege."  
  
Wilye had stopped and was blinking mutely at her friend.  
  
Gil-galad's hand trembled beneath Caranlas' fingers. Caranlas realized that if he heeded her -- if he broke under his fear, and did not go --, she would despise him as a coward. Yet, she would rather despise a living coward than despair for a dead king.  
  
Gil-galad did not break. Lifting his head majestically, he answered her thus:  
  
"If Mandos decrees it so, then it is done. I will not resist, reproach, or resent a Prince among the Ainur."  
  
He turned to leave the tent, but Caranlas gripped his wrist and cried out convulsively,  
  
"My lord king, for the sake of the soldier that loves you!"  
  
As far as Caranlas and Gil-galad knew, Caranlas had meant only what she had said: all soldiers of Gil-galad loved their king. Wilye, however, began to see, with a blink, a start, and a cock of the head, what Caranlas deep within herself had truly attempted to say.  
  
"I am sorry, Caranlas," Gil-galad said sadly, and left her there. His emotions in a stormy upheaval, Gil-galad picked his way through the sleeping Elven soldiers. Mandos, then, had decreed his death? What had he, a mere Elda, done to elicit the express attention of a Vala? But then, Mandos represented the pleasure and thought of Iluvatar......... was Iluvatar displeased with Gil-galad? Why?  
  
In his misery, Gil-galad missed his step and tripped over a young elf huddled under a blanket. As the latter sat up and reached for his blade, Gil-galad recognized him.  
  
"You!" he cried, astounded. What else this day?  
  
Legolas, realizing who he was addressed by and being able to interpret the king's interjection only as a snarl, flattened his ears and lowered his eyes.  
  
"You kicked me, sir?" he murmured respectfully.  
  
"Ah, no, dear friend, I tripped over you," Gil-galad apologized. "Forgive me my preoccupation."  
  
"Of course, my liege," Legolas nodded.  
  
"What are you doing here? Are you not Legolas who travels with Siobhan, daughter of Joseph?" Gil-galad inquired eagerly.  
  
"Sir, I am. I was drafted, lord king, " Legolas replied, "though proud I am to serve beneath your standard."  
  
"What is your rank?" Gil-galad asked, seeming glad for a distraction to be interested in.  
  
"Under your banner, liege, the only rank is 'subject,' " Legolas said carefully.  
  
"Ha! Well said," Gil-galad laughed uneasily; "you begin to sound like Caranlas."  
  
"Like who, my lord?" Legolas queried.  
  
"My armor-bearer," Gil-galad said with far more indifference than he really felt. "But tell me, what was Joseph doing when he and others of your company drew Elendil after themselves into the marshes some weeks past?"  
  
Legolas hesitated, then decided to be completely and brutally frank.  
  
"They tried to save your life, lord king, by leading you away from the Mountain of Doom, but you did not follow."  
  
"Ah!" Gil-galad cried, "Do your visions and prophecies call for my demise even as Sivi's and Caranlas' do?"  
  
Legolas sang softly,  
  
"Gil-galad was an Elven-king.  
  
Of him the Harpers sadly sing,  
  
The last whose realm was fair and free,  
  
Between the Mountains and the Sea--"  
  
"Enough!" Gil-galad managed. "I have heard it in my own dreams before now, and Siobhan was singing it! Where is she?"  
  
He was breathing like a marathon runner who, putting forth his best effort at the last, has, even so, lost his race.  
  
"Was she not with --" Legolas stopped.  
  
No, she had NOT been with Joseph. But where was she then? Where were Sarah and Christina, and......... and where was Andrea?  
  
"I -- I don't know," he answered, looking at Gil-galad in unfeigned horror.  
  
Gil-galad went cold and stared back at the younger elf for a long, silent eternity. Then he laughed mirthlessly.  
  
"Don't you? But I do."  
  
So saying, he spun on his heels and left poor Legolas to throw his face into his palms and pray for his Squee -- and his sanity. Marching back into his tent, Gil-galad banished Wilye -- Andrea -- therefrom with a single look. Then, he took Caranlas' helmet between his hands, pulled it from her head, and hurled it across the tent.  
  
"What are you doing here? What are you DOING here?" he literally roared.  
  
"Writing a treatise on how long it takes to drive an Elven-king mad," Sivi replied with far more courage than she had ever known that she possessed.  
  
"Count back to the day we met; you'll have your answer," Gil-galad shouted.  
  
"I can be just as stubborn as you can," Sivi exploded. "If you stay, I'm staying!"  
  
Gil-galad looked at her with desperation, respect, and curiosity.  
  
"Why?" he asked with a certain amount of hope. "Why should you care what happens to me?"  
  
Sivi didn't miss anything, and she was not about to offer the poor elf any encouragement.  
  
"My father undertook this project to rescue you, and who am I to say him nay?"  
  
"Your father undertakes a project, and you will risk your life to make it succeed?"  
  
" 'Death before dishonor,' is that not your way? You risk yours for what you will, why cannot I?" Sivi retorted.  
  
"You really will not leave, will you?"  
  
"I will not," she answered.  
  
"Will you agree to move back from the front lines?"  
  
"I will not. I will serve you as I have done for months, as your armor- bearer."  
  
"How will this save me?"  
  
Siobhan was silent.  
  
"Very well. You see I give in to you in this. Give me one thing."  
  
"What is that?" Sivi asked suspiciously.  
  
"Let me kiss at least your brow before you cover it again," Gil-galad pleaded quietly.  
  
"You may," Sivi murmured equally softly.  
  
Gently, he took her face in his hands and brushed her forehead with his lips. Then he retrieved her helmet and handed it back to her with a bow. In a broken whisper, he admonished her,  
  
"Be careful, Melui, and remember that I love you."   
  
WAI! THE CUTENESS!! SIVIxGIL-GALAD KAWAII SAP, NYO!!!*Phe-chan is acting like Andrea now.* PRESS PRETTY BUTTON NOW! PLEASE?!?! ARIGATOOOOO!!!!! JA NE! (This outburst is the result of something that goes "I do I do I do do I do love you. And do ya do ya do do ya love me too?") 


	24. The Battlefield of Mordor

EHAB here. I'm sorry that this took so long. I have no excuse. Well, no more dilly-dallying around; here is the chapter that you have probably been anticipating for the last ten to fifteen chapters, "The Battlefield of Mordor."  
"Andrea, get on the horse! Now!" Sivi commanded desperately.  
  
Andrea made a wild scramble up onto her horse's back, clinging tenaciously to its mane.  
  
"Now what?" she hollered at Sivi.  
  
Sivi was not listening. Her eyes were riveted to the base of the Mountain of Doom. The hissing, screeching hordes of orcs began of a sudden to part. Out of the corner of her eye, Andrea saw Elrond look up from the carcass of the goblin he had felled and freeze. Gil-galad sat proud and tall on his white mount, impassive and immovable, quiet and strong. Sivi felt that if she could reach through all the leagues of time and space, still she could not touch him. yet he was as he had always been.  
  
The ground shook once, twice, and NOT with the deadly vomit of the Fire Mountain. A gargantuan shadow loomed forward between the separated masses of monsters, having come from the Sammath Naur. Andrea looked questioningly at Sivi and saw in the quiet girl's eyes a passionate hatred, a fiery fury, a loathing too powerful for human words.  
  
"The Enemy is come," said Sivi, her voice nearly as dark as the shadow. Andrea was frightened. of the enemy, certainly, but almost as frightened was she of Sivi.  
  
"Now what?" she called again, tremulously.  
  
"Andrea," said Sivi in a low voice, reigning her mount in closer to her friend's, "when I say 'now,' I want you to take your spear and bury it - BURY it, do you hear me? - in the flank of Gil-galad's horse. Not until I say."  
  
"But the pretty horsie!" protested Andrea.  
  
"What will you save, the horse or the rider?" Sivi snapped. "The wounds of a horse can be mended."  
  
"Okay," agreed Andrea pitifully.  
  
"Then, when you see me lead the thing away, follow me. No matter where I go, you MUST follow me, or you WILL DIE."  
  
"Okay, but what 'thing' are you leading away?"  
  
"Gil-galad's horse."  
  
"With Gil-galad still on it, right?"  
  
"YES! Got it?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
Sivi turned her horse around and went back to her place by Gil-galad's right hand. The Shadow lumbered closer. As it did so, it became clearly visible to the soldiers of The Last Alliance.  
  
"Hey! That's the baka ring dude!" Andrea shouted in surprise. Several elves, including Gil-galad, shot her looks of confused disdain. Sivi pulled her horse back to be beside Andrea's again  
  
"Well, who did you think 'The Enemy' was?" she asked incredulously.  
  
"I didn't know. You talked about him like he was someone scary."  
  
Sivi gave her friend a withering look and rode up beside Gil-galad. The "baka ring dude" approached slowly, raising higher with each step the terrible Black Mace.   
  
Legolas and Thranduil stood together on the front lines to Gil-galad's left. Thranduil had discovered during their days of marching that there was something different about his young companion, a sobriety that did not manifest itself in most adolescent Sindarin. Though Thranduil was sure that he must be at least slightly older than Legolas, he felt himself in the presence of one ten times more regal and tragically beautiful. Legolas seemed to have seen too much.  
  
Side by side they faced the Enemy of all Freedom, Love, Respect, Order, and Right. Thranduil was proud to stand beside such an obviously high-born and courageous elf. Legolas murmured something, but Thranduil did not hear.  
  
"What, Legolas?" he asked humbly.  
  
"I hate it," Legolas uttered forth in a guttural snarl. He seemed to forget to whom he spoke. "Because of IT, Boromir is dead. Because of IT, Frodo suffered. Because of IT, Denethor burned and Théoden fell. I hate it."  
  
"Legolas," said Thranduil almost shyly, "this may be the last time I ever see you."  
  
He could not understand the look of tortured irony Legolas then gave him.  
  
"Go. on," Legolas said slowly.  
  
"I want you to know that you are the noblest elf I've ever known. If I survive this to have a son, I will name him after you."  
  
He broke off, thinking he might have offended his companion. Legolas' expression was disturbed, to say the least.  
  
"May it please you," Thranduil added.  
  
"It pleases me greatly, " Legolas whispered.  
  
The Enemy advanced with deadly malice. Thranduil shivered at the cold, mechanical determination. He put his mouth by Legolas' ear.  
  
"Who out of all of us will stand to face him?" he murmured.  
  
Several things happened at once, or very nearly at once, in this moment. First, something in Legolas was released that he himself had never known. Hatred pouring from his eyes in a mixture of light and tears, he replied to Thranduil his father,  
  
"I WILL."  
**Sivi shouted to Andrea, "NOW!"  
**A bay horse thundered through the ranks of Elven soldiers carrying Sarah and Christina. Christina's hand was clenched in the air above her head, yet something within her palm glowed so red-like light shining through wine or blood - that her fist appeared translucent as frosted glass.  
In Sarah's hands was a rusty chainsaw. On Sarah's face was a giant grin.  
**Andrea swallowed so hard, she nearly choked. She took her spear and, with tightly shut eyes, thrust it into the flank of Gil-galad's white horse.  
**The horse reared.  
**Gil-galad kept his seat, as Sivi had known he would.  
**Sivi clutched the horse's silver bridle and began forcing the beast after her into the western shadows of Orodruin.  
**Legolas ripped his blade from his sheath and his helmet from his brow, then rushed the Enemy. Thranduil stood with his jaw askew.  
**Andrea looked back at the carnage as Legolas cast his helmet aside. She screamed.  
**The Black Mace began its downward swing.  
**The Elven sword went up to meet it.  
**Sarah and Christina reached the Enemy's feet. Sarah revved the chainsaw.  
**Andrea turned and rode back, despite Sivi's protests.  
**The Mace connected with Legolas' breastplate. In the same instant, Legolas' sword pierced the Black Armour.  
**For Sivi, time froze. She drew the Elven Ring out and hurriedly took it off of its chain, trying to remember all that Galadriel had had time to teach her during their brief meeting. If she put the ring on while the Enemy still possessed his Ring of Power, she would be overwhelmed and destroyed by the strength of the One. If she put it on too late, she and her friends would be burned to death at the Enemy's fall. Pressure, anyone?  
**Sarah half-swung, half-hurled the chainsaw.  
**Andrea and Thranduil reached Legolas' fallen body together.  
**The One and its master were severed.  
**Sivi slipped Vilya onto her long finger and bent all her strength and will to wielding it.  
**Christina took what now flamed and flared like a red star from her fist and put it on her finger.  
**The Enemy fell with a heat like the fires of a thousand dragons' ire.  
**Sivi stretched forth her hand and concentrated on everything cold that she had ever known or seen. Dr. McCross' stethoscope somehow came to mind. The effort nearly broke her. She had not the skill to use the ring to save the entire Elven army, but she had to rescue Andrea. With a ferocity and a tenacity reminiscent of a maelstrom of the Shadowy Seas, Sivi spent nearly everything of herself to save her friends... and a frost spread across the battlefield.  
**The Enemy fell and was robbed even of the last small victory of taking another with him. He was defeated.  
Gil-galad turned without a word and rode up to where Andrea and Thranduil knelt beside Legolas. He dismounted and dropped to his knees, pulling off Legolas' breastplate. Andrea was sobbing.  
  
"He'll be alright, won't he?" Thranduil asked urgently. "After all, he was wearing..." Thranduil stopped as he saw Legolas' chest come into view from beneath the crumpled piece of armour. "... mithril..." he finished in a voice no more than a breath.  
  
Gil-galad lifted the limp body and removed the prince's mithril mail, holding it at arm's length. The Elven mail that was harder than diamonds was reduced to red-stained rags. I will not describe Legolas' chest. Suffice it to say that Andrea turned and began to vomit in the opposite direction.  
  
Numbly, Gil-galad wrapped Legolas' body with the High King's own cloak, tightly to prevent the younger elf's bleeding to death. He then allowed Thranduil to put Legolas on Andrea's horse and take him back to their encampment. Andrea followed doggedly on foot, leaving Gil-galad and Sivi alone at the center of the battlefield - alone, thought thousands of Elves wandered around them, gazing forlornly at the dead.  
  
"Well," Gil-galad murmured, smiling wryly at her as his golden hair flickered half-heartedly in a breeze's considerate funeral dirge, "here I am though here I should not be, had Melui's prophecies come to pass."  
  
"Your Melui could not accept the weight of her own words, and so she has done her best to change them," Sivi replied softly. Her eyes were the colour of a tattered storm-cloud, with crystalline rain-drops that she refused to allow to fall forming obstinately in their corners.  
  
His expression, at this point, was rather fun, and would have been even more so if not for the day's previous events.  
  
"You saved my life," Gil-galad managed. "I know that you did. Melui," he hesitated, "I love you."  
  
"Yeah?" said Sivi with a proud insolence. "Well, guess what?"  
  
"What?" he murmured, bracing himself for pain. Perhaps she would be easy with him on today of all days.  
  
"I love you, too," she smiled radiantly.  
  
Gil-galad's long ears actually pricked up, and Sivi giggled. She hadn't known elves' ears could do that.  
  
"I do," she whispered.  
  
"Melui," Gil-galad said in a tone of voice that sounded like it physically hurt to achieve.  
  
He embraced her, rejoicing when she did not pull away. She leaned her forehead on his neck, closed her eyes, and was simply elated because he was HOLDING her... she didn't need to kissed; she didn't need him to say a word; she only needed him to hold her, and the feelings of safety and worth that normally fled so far from her were hers to keep forever. Nobody in her life had ever before been willing to simply HOLD her - well, except for Jesus, but she placed that experience in a totally different category.  
  
Then she began to laugh again.  
  
"D'you know, this would be a lot more romantic if we weren't both wearing armour."  
  
Gil-galad laughed as well, releasing in a laugh all the pain that he had known for so long, all the burden of being the king of a Free People. Then Sivi became somber once more, and she was a Keeper, and he was a king, as should have been.  
  
"I'm tired. So tired. And I feel guilty," she said softly. "Will Legolas be alright?"  
  
"I do not know," he replied evasively, but the intensity of those rain- shower eyes told him he could not hide such things from his Ever-love. He sighed and added honestly, "It is not likely, Melui. It is not likely."  
For the record, baka means stupid/idiot. It's Japanese. 


	25. Emotions Shattered

Brownie points for whoever can spot the two books of the Bible named in this chapter. Even more brownie points for anyone who can figure out what's up with Sivi and her family.- EHAB   
  
  
Andrea sat by Legolas' bedside in Gondor's Tower, no longer weeping. There is a point at which even your tears will abandon you on the simple premise that your company is too melancholy for their tastes. This is the Deep Sorrow, such as Nienna is concerned with. Yet Nienna is lofty and concerned with a philanthropic pity for others, not with the guilt that comes as a result of having spawned an evil such as would provoke this pity. Andrea was on the other side of the coin.  
  
"It's my fault," she told Sivi sorrowfully, her dark-rimmed eyes fixed on the alabaster visage of her elven-prince as he lay motionless on his long, cold bed, enshrouded to his heavily bandage-swathed chest by a starkly crisp silver sheet and a wine-red coverlet.  
  
"Andrea, this is no one's fault," Sivi said gently. "Legolas did a very heroic deed, perhaps even an epic one. It was his choice to do it, not yours."  
  
"Don't you dare say it's his fault! It's not his fault! It's mine! It's my fault!"  
  
"I said that it was no one's fault," Sivi repeated.  
  
"But if it weren't for me, he wouldn't even be here! None of us would! He's here because he fell in love with me!" Andrea insisted.  
  
"Is it your fault that he fell in love with you?" Sivi asked sensibly.  
  
"Yes!" Andrea fired back. "I made the wish to go... somewhere else. I wished to find someone who cared about me, and my wish came true. If I hadn't made that wish, then maybe -"  
  
"Andrea, listen to me, and then listen to yourself. This is what I just heard you say - correct me if I'm wrong: 'Sivi, I blame myself for being lonely.'"  
  
"You don't get it! You don't get it! None of this should have happened! It's not in the books!"  
  
"The books?" Sivi questioned, taken off her guard.  
  
"The books! 'The Hobbit'! 'The Lord of the Rings'! 'The Silmarillion'! the books! It's not in the books! Look, I'll show you! I'll prove it!" Andrea cried madly, yanking up her bag from the floor beside her ornately carved cherry-wood chair and flipping it quickly open.  
  
Rummaging around, she pushed aside her sketchbook and "tool-box" and pulled out a slightly battered hard-back copy of Tolkien's "The Hobbit." She began skimming the pages with a speed that betrayed how many hours she had spent perusing a certain section of the book. Then, she waved it half- triumphantly, half-despairingly in front of Sivi's nose.  
  
"See! Read that whole page about the capture of the Dwarves. Am I there? Did I spill water on Glóin? Does it say that I was there and spilt water on Glóin?"  
  
"No, I admit that it does not say that, but..." Sivi paused in deep thought. "Does it say that Legolas and Morniwen were engaged?"  
  
"No, it left that part out," Andrea said, puzzled, "but what does that have to do with m -"  
  
"It may just possibly have everything to do with you," Sivi replied slowly. "Think: Tolkien left out Legolas' entire character in this book, because it was not relevant to this story. If the fact that the King of Mirkwood had a son was not relevant, why should the fact that a young girl spilt paint- water on Glóin be relevant? Why should Tolkien not have simply left that fact out the way he left out Legolas?"  
  
"But you can't prove -"  
  
"Actually, I believe that I can," Sivi said suddenly. "In the 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy, did Legolas marry Morniwen?"  
  
"... No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Why not? Don't you see, Andrea? If you were not there in the book 'The Hobbit' to break apart Legolas' engagement with Morniwen, then why does Legolas not marry her in the 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy?"  
  
"Maybe it wasn't relevant information," Andrea said sarcastically.  
  
"Sam's marriage was relevant. So were Aragorn's and Faramir's. Even the marriages of Merry and Pippin were mentioned - but Legolas' wasn't."  
  
"Oh..." Andrea said quietly, thinking hard.  
  
"I think, my dear friend," said Sivi softly, "that in these books Tolkien treated your character exactly the way he treated Legolas in 'The Hobbit': you were there but not mentioned."  
  
"But even if it was in the books, it's still my fault for BEING in the books, because I wasn't SUPPOSED to be in the books."  
  
"Andrea, it's NOT -"  
  
"IT IS! IT IS! GET OUT OF HERE AND LEAVE ME ALONE! IT IS!" Andrea screamed, not even noticing that her din made Legolas stir and turn his saffron-gilt head.  
  
Sivi said nothing at all, but only looked at Andrea for a long moment, her eyes deep and hurt. Then she rose and silently walked to the door. Turning, she said in an expressionless voice,  
  
"I'll send Thranduil in to chaperone you."  
  
"And then you'll go straight to Gil-galad and cry because I was mean," Andrea shouted, upset and not thinking her words through. "Fine! Go cry! But I don't have anybody to cry with, and it's MY FAULT, do you hear me? It's MY FAULT!"  
  
Her eyes misted, Sivi said only,  
  
"OK."  
  
Then she left.   
  
  
  
  
On her way through the halls, Sivi spotted Thranduil and quietly entreated him to go and watch over Legolas' wounded form with Andrea. He agreed instantly and hurried off to comply. Then Sivi sought Gil-galad.  
  
She found him with her father. Joseph looked up at his daughter and smiled. She stood in the doorway shifting her weight.  
  
"Looking for me, Punkin?" he grinned.  
  
Guiltily, Sivi coughed.  
  
"Er, um, actually, I was looking for Ereinion - but - but you can help me, too, Daddy," she added quickly.  
  
"Sweetie, you're not hurting my feelings," Joseph said amiably. "You have the right to ask other guys for help besides me."  
  
With another nervous cough, Sivi pulled out a chair and sat down a little too hard. Gil-galad took one of her hands, and Joseph took the other.  
  
"What troubles you, Melui?" Gil-galad asked gently.  
  
"What do you do," Sivi murmured, carefully addressing the question to neither male in particular, "when a friend is hurting, and they blame themselves for something that they didn't do, and they won't listen to reason?"  
  
"Andrea," Joseph and Gil-galad said together.  
  
"Well... yeah."  
  
"Let me speak with her," Gil-galad suggested firmly.  
  
"She wouldn't listen to me," Sivi said uncertainly.  
  
"She'll listen to me, I promise you, Melui," Gil-galad answered with a strange smile.   
  
  
  
  
"So you are the one Melui calls friend," Gil-galad said coldly from behind Andrea's chair.  
  
"I guess so," Andrea replied dully.  
  
"You've been crying," he observed.  
  
"Yeah," she shrugged.  
  
"Why so?"  
  
"Huh? I've been crying because my Pretty One is hurt, and he might not get better, and he has to get better, and it's all my fault!" she burst out.  
  
"So what are you planning to do about it?" he asked bluntly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"If you've caused this, hadn't you better fix it?" he demanded.  
  
Thranduil stared at the Elven-king.  
  
"How? What can I do?" Andrea asked piteously.  
  
"That's your affair, not mine, but I don't see how wallowing in self-pity is going to help."  
  
"I'm not -" Andrea began, but then she stopped. "Well, I guess I am, really," she whispered, startled.  
  
"Let me tell you a secret," Gil-galad said, dropping to his haunches to meet her gaze with kind eyes: "everyone does."  
  
"You're confusing me," Andrea whimpered.  
  
"Everyone indulges their self-love," Gil-galad told her. "You must realize that you are doing it and rise above it. I struggle with this, and so do you. Everyone does. Now, with a mind crystal clear and free from all undue prejudices, tell me how this is your fault."  
  
"Well, uh, did Sivi tell you where we were from?" Andrea asked cautiously.  
  
"She tried to, once, but we were... interrupted in our discussion. She said something about another world."  
  
"Exactly," Andrea said in relief. "We're from a different world. I found this magic tiara in my attic, and I made the wish... to have an adventure and find somebody who loved me. So, the tiara brought me to Middle-Earth, to the forest where Legolas lives, and his father, King Thranduil -"  
  
Thranduil made a strange noise in his throat. Andrea stopped.  
  
"Oh, shoot. Oops."  
  
"Perhaps you mean a different Thranduil," Gil-galad suggested to forestall the genesis of an entirely new conflict.  
  
"No, I recognize him, but, um... um, just forget I told you that."  
  
"But I'm not even married!" Thranduil pointed out urgently.  
  
"Not yet," Andrea sighed. "Let me finish."  
  
Gil-galad gave Thranduil a sympathetic glance. He knew what it was to have a young mortal predict one of the most monumental events in his life.  
  
"Anyway, Thranduil and Legolas decided I could stay at the palace..."   
  
  
  
  
An hour later, the entirety of the tale had been recounted. Andrea fell silent and waited for the two Elves to pass judgment. Thranduil was staring at Legolas' face, thunderstruck. His son... Legolas was his son... Legolas was dying... His son was dying.  
  
Gil-galad was quietly considering these new revelations. At length, the High King spoke.  
  
"Considering your tale as objectively as possible," he told Andrea calmly, "and from as many view points as I can, I cannot find any case or point to justify" - Andrea cringed - "the notion that any of this is your fault."  
  
Startled, Andrea blinked pitifully up at the Elven-king.  
  
"What? But I -"  
  
"You were lonely. You made an innocent wish. Legolas made a choice between you and this Morniwen. He made a choice to follow you to your world -"  
  
"I still gotta figure out how in the world - whichever world - he did that," Andrea muttered.  
  
"He chose to return to Middle-Earth and to accept Lady Galadriel's task."  
  
"He also chose of his own accord to rush the Enemy. You had nothing to do with that," Thranduil added.  
  
He had moved from his chair to the bedside and placed a hand on Legolas' brow.  
  
"That's what Sivi said," Andrea murmured remorsefully. "I shouldn't have yelled at her."  
  
"She understands that you hurt," Gil-galad said kindly. "She knows."  
  
"Ereinion," came Sivi's voice from the doorway.  
  
Gil-galad and Andrea turned. Sivi stood in the door, Joseph behind her. Her face was flushed and her eyes excited. Joseph wore a wide grin as his daughter announced words that fell like soothing rain on Andrea's ears:  
  
"Ereinion," Sivi smiled breathlessly, "we think we may have found a way to save Legolas."  
  
MAGIC REVIEW BUTTON!! ~Phe-chan 


	26. The Grandfather Clause

Ultra Mega OKAY is a thing that I stay up late to listen to once a week. Sadly, There may be no okay tonight. As such-and mostly because I've already injested mass amounts of sugar-I'm posting this now. It was done and was sitting in my computer for awhile anyhow. You may actually want to hit us afterwards. BTW, thanks to everyone who reviewed. You people are wonderful! And congrats to Skylar, who won our little contest. I am going to email a picky to ya shortly. Maybe not tonight though. Depends on if I get my okay. We'll see.  
  
~Phe-chan~  
  
"It's simple," Sivi explained. "It's so simple. Why not just take him to Galadriel? She can heal nearly anything."  
  
Andrea surprised a strange light in Sivi's eyes. There was something that Siobhán was keeping back from them. Andrea began to think that she might know what it was.  
  
"Can we move him, though?" Thranduil asked concernèdly.  
  
"That's true, Mr. Joseph; wouldn't it be dangerous to try to jump time with Legolas so badly hurt?" Megan frowned.  
  
"It's the only choice we have," Sarah answered, her eyes mirroring the strange and sudden brightness reflected in her cousin's.  
  
"It's not our choice," Joseph said, his eyes also flaring intently. "it's Andrea's."  
  
"Whatever Sivi wants to do is fine with me," Andrea whispered.  
  
This abrupt deference on the part of Andrea where her Pretty One was concerned fairly astounded all but four people in the room: Sivi, Joseph, Sarah, and Andrea herself. Between these four there was a mutual understanding.  
  
"Another concern that I wish to address," said Joseph, becoming oddly formal in his speech, "is why Thranduil should have used the term 'we.'"  
  
"I'm going with you," Thranduil said uncertainly.  
  
"You realize, then, that if you do, none of this will have happened, because Legolas will not have been born?" Joseph said quietly.  
  
Thranduil balked.  
  
"Actually," Sarah pointed out, "if he goes with us, the whole universe could be destroyed."  
  
Several eyes widened like saucers, and all in the room paid Sarah rapt attention. Sivi smiled and muttered under her breath,  
  
"The Grandfather Clause."  
  
"You see," Sarah explained leisurely, "if you go back with us, Thranduil, Legolas will never be born. But, if Legolas is never born, then you will never have the opportunity to jump time with us, and Legolas will be born, but then you'll jump time with us, and he won't be born. No universe is made to handle a loop in time. It will self-destruct."  
  
"Did we just cross over into 'Star Trek' or somethin'?" Christina drawled dubiously.  
  
"No kidding," Jeremie muttered, shaking his head as if to clear away confusion's cobwebs.  
  
"I suppose I'll just stay here, then," Thranduil said in a hushed voice.  
  
"What is 'Star Trek'?" queried Gil-galad.   
  
  
  
  
  
"You don't really plan to ask Galadriel to heal Legolas, do you?" Andrea asked Sivi after Gil-galad, Christina, Jeremie, Megan, Erynen, Erynsir, and Thranduil had gone for the night. Sarah chuckled.  
  
"Not exactly," she grinned.  
  
"If what we're planning works, we shouldn't have to," Joseph added.  
  
"Why can't YOU heal him?" Andrea asked Joseph piteously.  
  
"Healing is Estë's province," Joseph returned. "Galadriel has studied under Estë and Nienna. I have not."  
  
"I wonder, sometimes, why the three of you DON'T do any more than you do," Andrea admitted quietly.  
  
"We can't see everything, Andrea," Sivi explained softly. "We don't like to interfere in things we can't see ahead of time."  
  
"It is unwise to meddle in Ilúvatar's designs," Joseph nodded.  
  
"We've been taking some drastic measures to save Gil-galad," Sarah added.  
  
"Yes. Sometimes now I regret not doing more to save this Elendil, but apparently it had been ordained that he should die that day," Joseph murmured.  
  
"Wasn't it ordained that Gil-galad should die?" Andrea asked.  
  
"Not so clearly," Sivi replied.  
  
"Well, okay. If you three have a plan, okay," Andrea sighed. "I'm guessing it would break my brain if you tried to tell me?"  
  
"Let me put it to you this way" Sivi said: "it almost breaks MY brain."  
  
Andrea's eyes widened.  
  
"Oooooooooooooo."   
  
  
  
  
"Are we ready?" Joseph asked.  
  
The group, including Erynen and Erynsir, stood outside of Ecthalion. Legolas lay unconscious still in Gil-galad's arms, wrapped in his burgundy velvet coverlet. Trembling, Thranduil kissed his son's brow and backed away.  
  
"Take good care of him," he beseeched his new friends urgently.  
  
"We promise," Andrea answered tremulously. "Well," she added, "see you in a few centuries, Your Majesty."  
  
Sivi, carrying Andrea's bag so that the younger girl could clasp Legolas' hand, gripped Vilya and wished hard.  
  
This time, though, something was obviously horribly wrong. There was a violent yanking sensation, and Andrea felt Legolas' hand torn form her own. Then came the blackness.  
HAHAHAHAHAHA! BET YOU THOUGHT IT WAS ENDING SOON! DIDN'T YOU! HA! WE PROVED YOU WRONG THEN! HAHAHAHA! Please click the magic review button on your way out. Thank you kindly.  
  
~Phe-chan~ 


	27. Not Over Yet

Arg-it. Exams were bad (Algebra II and Chemistry were first thing on a Monday...how I hate the schedule) and summer tends to mean I'm playing with dad's nifty computer art, but here it is. Please don't hurt me...please? Thank you to everyone who reviewed. A pic of Squee and the Pretty One to anyone who can tell where she gets the idea that defeats the orc. ^-^~Phe- chan~  
  
EHAB here. Did you think we'd abandoned it for good? Fear not; Phe-Chan and I have come through great trials and tribulations (speaking from a teenage point of view, of course) to bring you this tale and WE! REFUSE! TO! LET! IT! DIE! Please believe me when I say that Chapter Twenty-eight will NOT take a month to be posted, as it is already written, tweaked, typed, and waiting in the wings. Forgive us our busy schedules, and please enjoy the chapter.  
  
The blackness was, in a way, familiar. Still, Andrea felt something she hadn't in a long while. Alone.  
  
"Sivi? Legolas? Guys? Are you there?" Even as she spoke the words, she could sense the emptiness around her. Am I dreaming? And then...fireworks, horrid, hot and noisy. They seemed to blast her backwards and forwards at the same time. It was only when she fell forwards, into the harsh dirt, that she realized.  
  
"Not fireworks, a battle...but..." Andrea spun around, hand clamped tight over the pouch hung round her neck. "...but this isn't-" She screamed at what was suddenly in front of her.  
  
Huge and hideous, the orc grinned down at her as a mutilated predator might smile at the find of a free dinner. With one great, warty hand, it reached menacingly towards her. With a frightened gasp, she darted away, only to feel the cord of her necklace tighten.  
  
The beast had her. The thought sent a blind panic racing through her. She yanked helplessly against the monster's grip. "Someone...help me..." she croaked out, tears starting to form. Not now. She had been so close. Sivi had said Legolas would get better...and then...then she could finally be...not now, please not now. "Legolas! Help!" She screamed, knowing he hadn't been sent here, but not knowing what else she could do. Seconds after, an elven arrow whizzed by out of nowhere, striking the foul creature dead.  
  
Andrea turned, catching only a flicker of gold on the high wall. Legolas? She tried to run, to see if, possibly...but she was still caught. Even in death, the orc's ugly fingers would not budge from their grip. Andrea hesitated for only a second, and then slipped the cord over her head. If that had really been Legolas....he was more important than the tiara.  
  
Glad she had chosen to wear her jeans for the return trip, Andrea darted around, ducking low to avoid the notice of most of the battling warriors. She fought back a scream when she tripped. 'I won't look, do not look,' she told herself over and over again. Flinging herself up from the ground, she ran off. The wall was in sight! She was almost there, only a little further...  
  
Another moment found her face to face with her second orc of the evening. And this time, there was little room to run. Not without running from the wall, and Legolas. Amazingly, her hand found the hilt of a sword. Whether it belonged to an enemy or a friend, she did not know. At the moment she didn't care.  
  
The creature's sword came down as she tightened her grip and brought the "her" sword upwards. Steel clashed on steel, and Andrea fought for balance. With both gravity and her foe's greater strength against her, she had little hope of holding the twisted blade off for more than a second or two. A memory flickered in her mind's eye. She knew what to do.  
  
With a high pitched battle cry, she ducked below the sword's edge and brought her foot up to connect solidly with the orc's gut. It staggered, winded for the moment.  
  
"Thank you, Yahiko." She mumbled softly, darting for the wall once again. At that moment a hand grasped hers, and she turned to see that the arm was attached to a short, fuzzy-faced man.  
  
"Hurry, with me." The fuzzy man pulled her towards what seemed to be the opening of a...cave? And something clicked. She followed Gimli without question.  
  
After all, "Everything happens for a reason, just believe." 


	28. Flame, Wind and Light

Sivi did not feel the jerking or the cold. She only experienced joy beyond measure. She seemed to float within a river of light and stars. Her mother was with her, holding her close.  
  
Sivi let out a sigh that echoed across the universe and all its times, a sigh born of so much happiness that it caused her pain.  
  
"My love," said her mother, in a voice that rang like a shower of little bells, "it was well done. But it is not finished. There are trials yet to come. Will you face them? Or will you choose to return to us now, in honour?"  
  
"Mother," Sivi murmured sadly.  
  
"I miss you, little gem," her mother whispered through beautiful crystal tears. "I want you home. You and your father."  
  
In agony, Sivi managed to say what she knew within herself was right.  
  
"No, Mother... Do not bring me home yet. There is yet more to face, you said, and I will face it. But I love you, Mother. And you know that Father loves you."  
  
Her mother smiled with a radiance that shamed the stars.  
  
"It is well done, my gem. I love you, too. I will send you to the city I love best. The Eldarin Star-Dome may not welcome you this time. Be wise, and be silent. Above all, my love, remember the Flame, remember the wind, remember the light, and remember me."  
  
"Well I will, my mother." 


	29. And Nobody Knows

Heyla, EHAB here! Thank you to the wonderful reviewers of Chapters Twenty- Seven and Twenty-Eight. Some very pertinent questions were asked that I would like to address one by one, if you'll permit me.  
  
#1: Yes, the 'Eldarin Star-Dome' does indeed refer to Elrond.  
  
#2: At the end of Chapter Twenty-six, readers will remember that there was a "yank." Chapters Twenty-Seven through approximately Thirty-Nine deal with what has happened to each of the characters after and as a result of that "yank." The fate of Legolas will be revealed in one of these chapters. Which? Read to find out ;)!  
  
#3: Sivi's mother is NOT an Elf. However, I don't intend to tell you what she actually IS right now (evil grin). Once again, read to find out ;)!  
  
And now for your personal enjoyment, Chapter Twenty-Nine: And Nobody Knows  
  
Boromir began to run blindly, his senses clouded by grief, fear, and guilt. What have I done? Was the only conscious thought that he remained capable of entertaining. Leaves and twigs crackled beneath his leather boots. He could not hear them. Dark, lumbering shadows moved recklessly through the woods around him. He did not notice them - not, at least, at first. Then the path sloped unexpectedly downward, and he stumbled. Looking up through a valance of filthy, cedar-coloured hair, he saw two Halflings. Meriadoc... Peregrin... for the last hour or more, he had forgotten their existence. Painfully, he recalled the hills of Hollin, where he had taught them, wrestled with them, and laughed with them. Yet now, he had betrayed them.  
His eyes watched them and saw them only. They were fighting exactly as he had taught them. Then the cobwebs in his mind began to clear as he realized at last: Fighting...? They're fighting!  
  
With a cry, his hand felt for the leather grip of his sword-hilt. A metallic ring echoed throughout the forest as Boromir the Bold became suddenly mighty again. Leather and metal... he could feel them through his fur-lined gloves. They made him feel powerful beyond reproach, as though by wielding them he could reclaim his honour and the pride of his people. In his culture, it was so. Prowess in battle erased a man's misdeeds. So he would fight - perhaps he would even die - for Meriadoc and Peregrin, for Frodo, for Aragorn's continued trust, and for himself.  
He swung, felt his blow connect, and swung again in a different direction. He did not see his foes, because of the sweat in his eyes, but fought from pure instinct. The Hobbits stood amazed. He fought the orcs away from the stone bridge and into a secluded hollow as the Halflings clung, terrified, to the hem of his leather jerkin.  
He felt, of an instant, two new presences in the clearing. One of these was foul; vile; black. The other... For the first time, Boromir truly raised his eyes. A girl?  
  
Wait... Christina thought. OK, elf-dudes, what is up with this? What is the business? This is SO not Lorien, and that Boromir guy is SO supposed to be dead. Hunh... 'e's kinda cute, though. Hey, Sivi saved Gil-galad. If she can do it, I can do it. But I think I'm a-gonna do it a bit different, though.  
Thus decided, she pulled an automatic pistol from within her pullover jacket and took aim at the massive Uruk that had just thundered into the hollow. This was the orc that was supposed to slay Boromir. In point of fact, it had just lifted its coarse metal bow and fitted an outlandishly thick-shafted arrow with bristly, grey feathers. As he knocked t, Christina had to snicker.  
OK, that arrow SO looks like a toilet-bowl brush.  
Just then, Christina was knocked from her feet by what sounded like a foghorn erupting not two feet away. Boromir had sounded the Horn. Christina struggled back onto her feet, blessing Heaven for the mercy of her revolver's not having gone off during her fall.  
She re-aimed the pistol at the Uruk's head and fired one shot. At the unfamiliar cracking noise, all in the clearing stopped and stared at her. Then, they followed her gaze.  
The Uruk made no sound at all. The profusely flowing red bindhi between its eyes said everything Christina needed to know. It fell forward with a thud.  
"Who's next?" Christina demanded of the stupefied orc-band.  
A sudden burst of noise exploded as the orcs began to flee the glade. Two of them managed to make off with Merry and Pippin in the confusion. Since neither Merry nor Pippin was supposed to die, Christina let it go. Soon, she and Boromir were alone in the clearing.  
Smacking the butt of her gun into the palm of her left hand, Christina sauntered over to a still-dazed Boromir and pistol-whipped him hard. He crumpled to the ground, drenched in sweat and orc-blood but unadorned with "toilet-bowl brush" arrows. Christina ducked behind a beech as Aragorn came crashing heedlessly into the hollow.  
Aragorn cried out, dropped to his knees, and began shaking Boromir violently. 'That's it,' Christina thought dryly, 'rattle his brains out. That'll make him feel better.' Aragorn began shaking Boromir so hard that the younger man's head bashed the earth with each jerk. 'Good grief, I saved his life, and now this guy's gonna kill 'im,' Christina mused.  
Finally, Boromir woke up. What with Christina's blow and Aragorn's shaking, the poor man was a bit confused.  
"They took the little ones," he gasped, not able to remember much else.  
"Be still," Aragorn murmured.  
A surge of guilt struck Boromir like a hammer in the midst of all of his half-sensical thoughts.  
"Frodo! Where is Frodo?"  
Carefully, Aragorn replied,  
"I let Frodo go."  
"Then you did what I could not," Boromir admitted miserably. "I tried to take the Ring from him."  
"The Ring is beyond our reach now," Aragorn said, without judgment in his voice.  
"Forgive me," Boromir pleaded. "I did not see. I have failed you all."  
Tears started into Aragorn's terrible, expressive eyes.  
"No, Boromir. You fought bravely; you have kept your honour."  
He raised a hand to wipe the orc-blood from Boromir's face, but Boromir gripped him convulsively.  
"Leave it! It is over. The world of Men will fall, and all will come to darkness, and my city to ruin."  
A note of uncertainty brought itself forth in Boromir's voice and visage. The fiery pain in his head convinced him he was dying. Aragorn alone was left to save Gondor.  
"I do not know what strength is in my blood," Aragorn said, "but I swear to you: I will not let the White City fall... nor our people fail."  
"Our people?" Boromir gasped, fighting to retain consciousness. "OUR people?"  
Aragorn nodded, weeping.  
'Oh, good grief, get ON with it,' Christina thought in exasperation. 'I've got places to be, and I've gotta take him with me. Maybe Galadriel will know what to do with him.'  
"I would have followed you, my brother... my captain... my king," Boromir managed, then fainted away. Christina waited for Aragorn to flip out and start shaking him again, but Aragorn only kissed Boromir's brow and whispered,  
"Be at peace, Son of Gondor."  
'Great, he thinks he's dead,' thought Christina. 'What is this guy, blind? Well, I guess he's just really tired.'  
Legolas and Gimli came running into the glade. After realizing what had happened - or what they thought had happened - they bowed their heads and mourned fittingly. Then they began to make plans for Boromir's burial.  
'Shoot,' Christina thought. 'I forgot they drop 'im over that stupid Jacuzzi faucet. OK, how am I gonna fix THIS little booboo?"  
She slipped away through the woods until she came to the river, then Gollum-like, swam after Frodo's and Sam's boat to the other side. After the two Hobbits had gone, she waited in the shadows of the trees until the Three Hunters had lain Boromir's body in the boat and pushed it off. They then turned respectfully away, and Christina dove into the rushing waters, swam quickly out to the middle of the river, and grasped the boat's hithlain tether. Fighting the lethal current, which had not been half so strong when she first crossed - ah, but she was nearer the falls this time, that would be it --, she hauled the boat back to the eastern shore as the Three Hunters raced into the woods on the opposite bank.  
"Need to make sure somebody finds this," she muttered, tossing Boromir's cleft Horn into the River.  
"I saved Boromir," Christina panted, dripping water all over the Gondorian's unconscious form as she leaned on the rim of the boat. "I did it! I saved Boromir!"  
Then she stopped.  
"Wait... I saved Boromir... and nobody knows!" 


	30. Flame, Craft and Tree

It's moving day, yay! Another short chapter before the internet is cut off. Chocolate cake is wished apon all the wonderful reviewers! Thanks guys!  
  
~Phe-chan~  
  
Chapter 30: Flame Craft and Tree  
  
The Nothingness did not frighten Sarah. She felt Gil-galad's presence beside her and knew that he, a mere elf, could not see, feel, or hear her. A stronger presence was with her as well: her father's.  
  
"My bright flame," he said in a resounding voice.  
  
"Father," she replied.  
  
"My red flame," he continued, "you have done well. You have been very... creative."  
  
Sarah smiled, knowing he meant her little chain-saw fiasco.  
  
"Thank you, Father."  
  
"You have a choice, Red flame. Will you come home to us?"  
  
Sarah hesitated, thinking. There was no particular reason why she should NOT go home... Well, she mused suddenly, actually, there was. There were her friends. Their quest might be ending, but that didn't mean that they no longer wanted or needed her, and she knew that she would miss them. Sivi wouldn't go home; she valued her human friends too highly. Sarah decided to follow her cousin's example. Besides...she still had to apologize to Haldir.  
  
"No, Father," she said firmly. "Not yet."  
  
"Well done, my flaming Blossom. I love you."  
  
"I love you, Father."  
  
"Remember the Flame, remember the craft, remember the tree, and remember me."  
  
"Yes, Father."  
  
A curtain of flame descended and enveloped Sarah and Gil-galad. 


	31. Edheli a Periannath

Megan felt absolutely certain that she must have landed in Ireland; EVERYTHING was GREEN. The landscape was rolling, verdant, lush, and almost sickeningly picturesque. Into the sides of the gentle hills were built brightly painted little round doors and windows.  
  
Jeremie, Erynen, and Erynsir were turning in circles, trying to analyze their surroundings. Suddenly Jeremie began to laugh, half in confusion and half in relief. Megan realized where they were.  
  
"And enter the leprechauns," Jeremie chuckled as a very young Hamfast "Gaffer" Gamgee rounded the bend at the foot of the Hill, pushing a wheelbarrow and whistling merrily.  
  
"Hi! Master Hamfast!" Jeremie hollered.  
  
The young Hobbit looked up in surprise, regarding the travelers with a prudent and wary eye. Muttering, he left his wheelbarrow and ambled over in their general direction. As he neared them, they caught a few of his low- spoken, mistrustful comments.  
  
"Men... Elves. Men and Elves, Elves and Men, what have the Big Folk got to do with us? How in the name of wonder do they know me, and what do they want with me?" And on it went.  
  
"Excuse me, Master Hamfast, but can you tell me, does Mr. Bilbo Baggins still reside in Bag End?" Jeremie asked politely.  
  
Megan grabbed Erynsir's arm; the bewildered elf looked about ready to poke the Gaffer to see what he was.  
  
"He does; 'e just got 'ome yesterday," Hamfast responded. "Who are you, then?"  
  
"My name is Jeremie Williams. This is Megan Edwards, Erynen son of Amanen, and Erynsir son of Amansir."  
  
"And just 'ow d'you know me, sir?"  
  
"We're friends of some of Bilbo's friends," Jeremie answered.  
  
"Friends of friends, eh? Well, alright, I guess. Mr. Baggins should be in. Is that all you wanted of me, then?"  
  
"Yes, Master Hamfast; thank you very much."  
  
This example of decent manners from one of the Big Folk seemed to please the little Gaffer.  
  
"Well, you're very welcome," said he, and bowed and went back to his wheelbarrow.  
  
"What IS that?" Erynen asked curiously.  
  
"That, friend, is a Hobbit," Megan replied.  
  
"Hobbit?"  
  
"Hobbit, Halfling, Perian, whatever you prefer," Megan said, smiling up at the befuddled elf.  
  
Erynen and Erynsir looked at one another in shock and burst out chattering in Elvish, none of which either Megan or Jeremie understood. The word 'Perian' was repeated frequently. As they traded back and forth their sparse respective knowledge of Halflings, Megan and Jeremie, began their own conference.  
  
"WHY are we in the Shire right after 'The Hobbit'?" Megan demanded, frightened.  
  
"I don't know," Jeremie said, shaking his head. "Something happened to throw us off course, obviously, but what it was, who knows?"  
  
"What about the others?" Megan fretted. "D'you think they're alright?"  
  
"I hope so," Jeremie muttered with a deeply furrowed brow. "We haven't been hurt, so there's no reason to assume that they've been put into any more danger than we have."  
  
"True," Megan replied, "but a few things still worry me. For one thing, we landed in the Shire, which is a relatively safe environment, but they may have been sent into the middle of the Battle of the Pelennor fields, or something. Can you imagine Andrea in the middle of a battle, possibly without Sivi? Also, Legolas was hurt to begin with. Lastly, I think we've all managed to forget that, though our quest was to retrieve the rings, and we've accomplished that, whoever tried to steal them is still out there and could potentially be an extremely dangerous force. What if THEY'RE behind this?"  
  
"I never thought of that," Jeremie said softly. "What can we do?"  
  
"Nothing; that's just it. We have no ring, so we just have to wait till Sivi, Legolas, or Christina comes to rescue us - if they can."  
  
"Bad business," Jeremie murmured quietly.  
  
Jeremie rang the bell of Bag End and stepped back. Megan stood close to Erynen. Erynsir shifted his weight and eyed the door intently. There was the noise of scuttling feet, and the door swung open. Bilbo peered suspiciously out.  
  
"Ah! Hello, hello, Bilbo Baggins, at your service," he said in some surprise.  
  
"Jeremie Williams at yours," Jeremie answered, and then went on to explain, "We are friends of Legolas, son of the king of Northern Mirkwood."  
  
"Ah! Legolas! Yes! What may I do for you, then? Will you come in?"  
  
"We do not wish to intrude or impose," said Jeremie. "We are looking for a place to sleep for the night. Could you point us to the nearest inn?"  
  
"Oh, well, that'd be the 'Green Dragon' in Bywater, sure," Bilbo nodded. "You won't come in? If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask me, understand?"  
  
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Baggins," Jeremie answered. "Good day."  
  
"Good day, sir."  
  
By that evening, the news of the travelers' arrival had spread all over the Shire. The Tooks were particularly jealous of "Bilbo's Big Folk," and just as eager were they to have a look at the Elves. 


	32. Goodbye

Short chapter today. Gomen. Six Flags is fun, btw. While I was in line for the many roller coasters, I had a very funny image. Give you a hint, it involves the pretty one and his band of crazies and my lil trip. *grin* I hope to write a short with this idea, but my phone broke and EHAB's number is suddenly not working (did you change it or is it dad's cell, AB?). This is getting to be longer than the actual chapter. I'll shush now, ja ne!  
  
~Phe-cahn~  
  
Chapter 32 Goodbye  
  
Sivi had already felt her mother's soft light surround her, prepared to carry her away, when a deeper, echoing voice admonished,  
  
"Wait."  
  
"Daddy," Sivi recognized.  
  
"Hey, Pumpkin. I'm not going with you."  
  
"What? Why?" Sivi demanded, more than a little upset.  
  
"I'm going home, Pumpkin. You don't need me anymore."  
  
"I'll always need you," Sivi insisted, clinging child-like to his silver shirt-sleeves.  
  
"I'll come to the wedding," her father promised firmly.  
  
"Weddi - oh. Wedding, right," Sivi laughed, still sad, but somewhat reassured.  
  
"I'll come too, Gem," her mother added gently.  
  
"OK. I'll see you then. I'll remember."  
  
"It is well, little Gem. Goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye, Mother. Goodbye, Daddy. I'll miss you."  
  
And as the light flowed around her, she let him go. 


	33. Always Hope

New chapter for you! Now Dance!  
  
~Phe-chan~  
  
Gil-galad gazed around himself in wonder. The broad silver boles of Lothlorien stood tall and stately, their golden canopies adorned with Elven talan. These angelic catwalks glittered like the swan-white frost of Aman, draping and spiraling gracefully through the smooth branches, illumined by twinkling, ethereal, opalescent lights. This was the domain of Altariel, the Last Exile of Aman? This was her punishment?  
  
Sarah tugged on his arm, steering him firmly across an elegantly arcing white bridge which spanned a slender silver stream and towards the most massive mallorn in the place, situated centrally in this vibrant city that Sarah called Caras Galadhon. A stair of crystal covered by an intricately crafted awning of silver and diamond arches swept, curving, up the side of the Great Tree. Sarah mounted this, pulling him after her. As they climbed Gil-galad noticed a sentry, tall, proud, and fair, start as Sarah passed. He had little time to wonder at it, for the stair continued its upward curl, and soon Sarah and Gil-galad stood before the thrones of Lord Celeborn and Lady Altariel Galadriel.  
  
Galadriel and her husband came eagerly forward to meet Sarah, yet still managed somehow to maintain their serene superiority and detached composure.  
  
"The Quest is, then, complete?" Celeborn inquired in his soft, unnerving voice.  
  
"Uh, well, legolas still has Nenya, Christina's got Narya, and Sivi has Vilya," Sarah recited.  
  
"And they are where?" Galadriel asked with an undercurrent of wariness; she sensed trouble.  
  
"I have no idea," Sarah answered heavily. "Something went wrong when Sivi tried to bring us here again. Legolas is hurt."  
  
Sarah proceeded to relate the whole adventure. Galadriel and Celeborn asked very few questions, and Galadriel seemed to know most of what had happened already, but she did ask Sarah to expound on the chainsaw ordeal.  
  
"Well, Christina made the suggestion as a joke, but when Legolas found out what a chainsaw was, he gave me Nenya and asked me and Christina to return to our world to get one. When we got back, Legolas had been drafted, and all the others were gone, so we just used Nenya to zap us ahead to the battlefield.  
  
"Christina found Círdan and threatened him within an inch of his life with the chain-saw, so he gave us Narya. Then he also decided he wanted to let us borrow his horse. No, in all seriousness, I really think we were able to make him understand why we needed Narya, so he gave it to us, and we returned the horse after the battle."  
  
After all had been satisfactorily explained, the Lady of Light shook her head.  
  
"It takes a powerful force to interfere in the workings of the Great Rings. We must find your friends, and soon."  
  
"But we don't have a ring. We can't do anything," Sarah pointed out.  
  
"Go and rest," Celeborn instructed. "The queen will take the time while you sleep to consult her mirror. We will devise some sort of plan."  
  
"Yeah, a plan," Sarah sighed. "With all due respect, Your Majesties, all the plans we've made on this quest have fallen apart."  
  
"Do not lose heart," Galadriel said with a sort of stern kindness. "There is still hope - there is always hope."  
  
OK, there's the chapter, now press the magic review button! Look at it! It's saying "Press me!" How could you ignore such a sweet little plea? 


	34. Scuffles In The Dark

Here's a reloaded attempt at fixing the little problem with quotations. Hope this is better.  
  
~Phe-chan~  
  
"Are you sure that these little creatures are safe?" asked Erynsir.  
  
The three boys (Jeremie, Erynen, and Erynsir) were bedding down for the night in one of the small, ground-floor rooms of "The Green Dragon Inn." Megan's room was across the hall.  
  
"Sure, they're safe," Jeremie mumbled, half-asleep. "Don't worry about a thing."  
  
"As you say," Erynen answered, he being more trusting than his cousin.  
  
Erynsir sighed, but put his head down and tried to sleep, which was no easy feat in a bed that was about four feet too short for his long Elven body. Beside him, Erynen's eyes became eerily vacant as the latter dropped asleep. In the other bed, Jeremie's breathing became heavy. Erynsir laid awake for an hour or more and was not any closer to sleep when he heard it:  
  
Scuffle, shuffle, "Shhhhhhh...," creeeeeeeeaak, scuffle, shuffle, scuffle, shuffle...  
  
'What in Eä?' Erynsir wondered.  
  
"Tie it, tie it!" whispered a small voice.  
  
Erynsir felt a cord around his ankles and immediately kicked out hard.  
  
"Ow!" barked another voice, and suddenly there was light in the room as Erynen, who had awoken at the first scuff, lit the lantern and leapt to his feet.  
  
The Elves gaped s about thirty Halflings (Tooks and Brandybucks) were revealed in the lamplight, some carrying rope and about half carrying three long, thick poles. One little Hobbit's nose was bleeding. This was Paladin Took, the band's leader, whose nose Erynsir had bloodied with his instinctive kick.  
  
"Take the Big Folk! We want 'em alive!" Paladin shouted.  
  
'This MUST be a jest,' Erynsir thought incredulously.  
  
It wasn't. The Hobbits hesitated, seeming overawed by the two Eldar standing above them, though the Elves were wearing only loose shirts and leggings and were unarmed. Then the smaller creatures mustered their courage and swarmed at the Elves and Jeremie, ten Hobbits to a Big Person. In the cramped Hobbit-sized room, there was no space for fighting, and the Big Folk were over-powered and tied to the poles, which were hauled out of the inn, ten Hobbits supporting each pole. 


	35. Haldir

HA! A new chapter has arrived. *dances* Now hugs and sugar for the wonderful reviewers! And some notes! Paperclip Princess: Sorry it took so long to respond. Yes we called he Queen, but that title is backed up by Tolkien. In the two towers, in the chapter "The Road to Isengard", she is called Queen Galadriel. (Page 570 in the big combined book, the one with pictures by Alan Lee, it's near the bottom.) PurrrrrpleCapt: Hiya Captain Kitty! What color is the puppy and where are the cars?  
  
~Phe-chan~  
  
Haldir had canceled his engagement with Unoldiel. It was true that his father was not very pleased with him at the moment, but at least Haldir had something more hopeful to look forward to than the rest of his life spent entertaining an empty-headed female. When had he drawn the line? He supposed it must have been when she tried to convince him that Galadriel was the 'Lady in White,' rather than the 'Lady of Light,' ending her long, nonsensical speech with the words,  
  
"Dear, dear, you're awfully stupid, but I suppose you'll learn in time."  
  
He had thought himself, his dissolved betrothal contract, to be free at last of the constraints of courtship. Then SHE had come sweeping up the stairway to Galadriel's throne -- the saucy little redhead that had been traveling with Legolas. His pride smarted. Then he realized that she was hand in hand with a tall, firmly-built, handsome Elven-lord, and his insides writhed.  
  
'I'm not jealous; I'm not,' he insisted to himself. 'I just got out of one feminine mess, and I won't get into another. Even if I wanted to, she's obviously spoken for - but I don't, and I'm not jealous!'  
  
By this time, his face was as flushed as it had been when she'd slapped it, and Sarah and Gil-galad had already disappeared up the stair. Haldir tossed his white-gold hair and pretended to himself that he was glad that she had gone and that he wasn't being extremely childish - but it didn't really work. He decided to go and talk to her after he had been relieved of his post.  
  
'She might even tell me her name this time - but I'm not jealous!'  
  
Sarah was tired and therefore understandably irritable. Gil-galad was staying in a pavilion near the sentries' quarters, while Sarah had been given a talan in the lower branches of the Great Tree. Sarah was given every available comfort, yet still she could not sleep.  
  
She pulled a silver shawl around the shoulders of her Elven nightdress and slipped out of her room and onto the glittering walkway between the trees. 'I love Lothlorien,' she thought blissfully; gazing around herself at Lorien's beauty, she didn't feel half so tired anymore.  
  
"So you've returned," a voice said from behind her.  
  
Glancing up, she saw Haldir watching her. Though her gown was opaque and quite modest, Sarah instinctively drew her shawl a little tighter.  
  
"O, ah, yes, yes I have," she said.  
  
"Were you successful?"  
  
"Sort of," she answered evasively.  
  
"Are you of a mind to condescend to tell me your name this time?"  
  
"Sarah - my name's Sarah. Look, I'm sorry about what happened last time. I have no excuse; I'm just. sorry."  
  
Haldir had expected anything but this.  
  
"No, no, I, uh, I was rude," he managed awkwardly. "So, ahm, you've found someone, then?"  
  
"Found. someone?" Sarah repeated blankly.  
  
"You have, ah, an attachment to this Elven -lord with whom you have returned?"  
  
Sarah's brain kicked into gear. Haldir must think that she and Gil- galad--! She had the elf-sentry now.  
  
"O, you mean Ereinion," she smiled, feigning a blush. "He. he's really nice to me."  
  
She fancied she saw Haldir grip the railing rather harder.  
  
"And he's SO handsome - even my cousin Sivi thinks so, and she's never courted any one before," she continued happily.  
  
Sarah was not one to put on dreamy airs, but as the situation called for it, she tried to remember all of Sivi's acting pointers and did the best she could.  
  
"I see - and he's intelligent?" Haldir queried dryly.  
  
"I wouldn't consider someone who wasn't," Sarah replied truthfully. "And you should see him in battle -"  
  
As Haldir winced, an Elven runner came flying up the walk.  
  
"Lady Sarah," cried he urgently, "Queen Galadriel would speak with you immediately; another of your party has returned, bearing a Ring of Power."  
  
"Sarah raced off at once, and in spite of himself and in spite of all rules of etiquette and protocol, Haldir followed. As she ran, Sarah attempted to guess who might be waiting for her. If they were "bearing a Ring of Power," then it was probably Sivi, Legolas, or -  
  
"Christina!" she shouted joyously. "Are you okay? Where are the others?"  
  
Gil-galad came tearing up the staircase, laughing in relief.  
  
"You've made it back! Now at least we know that those with Rings CAN get back," he exclaimed happily.  
  
Sarah looked around at her friends: Galadriel was there, as well as Celeborn, Haldir, Gil-galad, Christina, and -  
  
"Boromir?"  
  
"I was promised an explanation when we'd arrived," the Gondorian said in a disgruntled fashion. "I've not gotten it yet."  
  
"YOU want an explanation?" Sarah said wryly.  
  
"I'll give everybody an explanation right now," Christina cried in exasperation, "if you'll just -"  
  
"Lady Galadriel! My lady!" cried a dark-haired elf-maiden, running up behind Gil-galad and forcing her way through the group to Galadriel.  
  
"Yes?" the Lady of Light said with a sigh of trepidation.  
  
"My lady, your mirror is ringing."  
  
"What, again?"  
  
"Yes, Lady."  
  
"Let us go, then - all of us," Galadriel sighed.  
  
"So much for the explanation," Sarah muttered.  
  
FEED THE MAGIC BUTTON!!!!!! 


	36. Hobbits and Angels and Elves, O my!

Ellen sila lumenn' omentielvo, melloni! EHAB here; it's been a while, since Phe has been posting most of our collaborative efforts lately. I promised a friend of mine that I'd say this several chapters ago, and haven't done it, so here goes: The person on whom the character of "Megan" is based would like to tell Skylar, one of our reviewers, that she greatly admires their "Pride and Prejudice" fanfiction - I'm not certain, but I believe it's called "Conviction." Thank you all for your kind reviews, and I give you now, "Chapter Thirty-Six: 'Hobbits and Angels and Elves, O my!'"  
  
"Paladin did WHAT?" Bilbo demanded sharply.  
  
"He and about twenty-nine or so of the other Tooks and Brandybucks came and Elf-napped my friends," Megan repeated.  
  
"Fool of a Took!" Bilbo exclaimed angrily.  
  
Sitting timidly in a corner of Bilbo's study, the Gaffer cringed. He had been at Bilbo's door asking to borrow a few spices for a stew that he was going to cook that night when Megan came jogging up the Hill, looking for volunteers to help her go and rescue her friends. Bilbo immediately agreed and strong-armed the Gaffer into doing so as well.  
  
"Now, Megan," Bilbo said, taking charge, "I want you and Master Hamfast to create a diversion while I free your friends."  
  
"But if they see you -" began the Gaffer.  
  
"They won't," Megan assured him. "Trust me."  
  
Bilbo looked at her in some surprise but nodded and took something small from a drawer of his desk. He left the room and returned with Sting affixed to his belt.  
  
"Shouldn't need it, but just in case, you know," he said with a shrug, and the three of them set off for Tookland.  
  
"Now what?" Erynsir grumbled.  
  
"Just have to wait for Megan, I guess," Jeremie shrugged.  
  
"What can she do?" Erynsir asked grouchily.  
  
After long hours of being carried upside-down with his hands and feet tied to a pole, his head dragging the earth, and a really annoying Hobbit walking song in his ears, he had rather a right to be grouchy.  
  
"Megan can do a whole lot more than you'd think," Jeremie told the Elves as the heedless Hobbits righted the poles and planted them in the ground outside Paladin's hole.  
  
"I have faith in the daughter of Gregory," Erynen said firmly. "She has proven herself intelligent and courageous. What other mortal woman would have braved the Marshes of the Dead?"  
  
Erynsir shook his head, unhopeful, but conceded the point and waited in the stillness. It didn't stay still for long. One of the Halflings grabbed a stick and poked Erynen in the belly.  
  
"Paladin," the little creature cried, astounded, "he's every bit of 'im muscle and no fat at all."  
  
"Maybe they aren't well-fed, poor creatures," said a female Brandybuck from the back of the group. "Should we feed them?"  
  
"What do they eat?" asked the Hobbit who had poked Erynen.  
  
"Here, you!" cried Paladin. "What do you eat?"  
  
"I think I've landed in 'Gulliver's Travels,' rather than 'The Lord of the Rings,'" muttered Jeremie.  
  
"We require nothing at the moment, Gracious Host, so much as that you should set us free," Erynen said politely.  
  
"I like him; he's nice," said the female Hobbit.  
  
"Well, look here, it's like this," Paladin said uncomfortably. "We don't mean no offense to you, nor to your kind in general, but, see, we've got our reputations to uphold."  
  
"What tragic event has earned the Tooks to fall from their neighbours' high esteem?" Jeremie asked sympathetically.  
  
Hobbits were sticklers for good manners; maybe he and the Elves could talk their way out of this mess.  
  
"Oh, well, it's that Bilbo Baggins," said another Hobbit.  
  
"Yes, tell them about Bilbo, Saradoc," said the female.  
  
"He isn't one of us; he's a Baggins," Saradoc went on, "and Bagginses have always been extremely respectable."  
  
"Ah, I think I begin to see," Jeremie nodded wisely.  
  
"You do?" Saradoc said, puzzled.  
  
"Bilbo has gone off on a grand adventure and left the Tooks and the Brandybucks, the most renowned of all Hobbits for adventurous and daring deeds, at home wishing they had gone, too. His treasure is becoming a local legend, where once all the local legends belonged to you. But he's never caught Three Big Folk all at once, and now you have, and so you should claim back some of that stolen glory," Jeremie summarized.  
  
"Exactly so," said another female, a Took, in astonishment. "Here, now, who are you, and how do you know all that?"  
  
"Listen to me," Erynsir said. "There was and is no need for this. My kind have the gift of prophecy," he added, "and of the line of the Tooks and of the Brandybucks we see much. My cousin," he addressed Erynen, "tell them what you have been told while walking with the daughters of Gregory and Joseph. Tell them what you have seen."  
  
The Hobbits turned great, wide eyes on the young Elf, and Erynen began to speak.  
  
"I am Erynen, and I know," he said quietly. "I know that there will be four sons among the Hobbits of the Shire that will make a name for themselves within the Shire and without, throughout the entire known world. One is a Baggins, one a Gamgee, one a Brandybuck, and one a Took. These four will see adventures and danger and dread such as this Middle Earth has never known before, and they will tread upon it and beat it down. Without the Shire, the greatest part of the glory will go to the Baggins and the Gamgee, but within the Shire, it will belong to the Took and the Brandybuck. Does this appease you, my Gracious Hosts?"  
  
There was a rippling murmur through the group of Halflings.  
  
"Can you be a little more specific?" someone asked pointedly.  
  
"Prophecy is a very imprecise gift," Jeremie said kindly. "What is it you wanted to know?"  
  
"Names," said the she-Hobbit promptly.  
  
"Names we have given you," Erynen said solemnly. "The names of Took and Brandybuck we have given you. It is never wise to be very clear with prophecy."  
  
"Well, okay, we'll let you go. but is it okay if we wait until Bilbo gets here?" paladin asked hopefully. "I want to see the look on his face."  
  
"I suppose that we could hang around -"  
  
"Listen up, Hobbits!" came the cold, feminine cry as Megan stepped boldly into the light of the fifteen Hobbit lanterns.  
  
The Gaffer wobbled not-so-boldly into view behind her.  
  
"I'm Megan, daughter of Gregory, and I've walked with Men and Angels and Elves - and I'm not afraid of Tooks and Brandybucks!"  
  
'Angels?' thought Jeremie incredulously.  
  
"Free my companions now," Megan continued, "or I say to you, I shall spill blood this night!"  
  
The Gaffer fainted.  
  
"That really is not necessary, Lady Megan," Erynen said, inclining his head respectfully. "Mr. Took and I were just negotiating our release."  
  
"No, no, I want to see what she's going to do," said the Brandybuck female.  
  
Erynen felt his bonds loosen and fall away, cleft by invisible hands.  
  
"Then look!" he cried. "See the power of Gregory's daughter to free where and who she will, by the force of her will alone!"  
  
The Tooks and Brandybucks shrank away as Jeremie and Erynsir brushed off the ropes that had bound them.  
  
"Paladin?" queried Saradoc Brandybuck.  
  
"You said you'd stay until Bilbo came," Paladin sighed disappointedly.  
  
"They have!" said Bilbo, stepping from the shadows.  
  
Paladin's face lit up.  
  
"You had a grand adventure, didn't you, Mr. Baggins?" he cried. "But you never captured two Elves and a Man."  
  
"You're right, I've not," Bilbo agreed. "My Dwarvish hood is off t'you, Paladin."  
  
Paladin had obviously not expected these humble words of praise.  
  
"I mean to go back someday, wander the paths of Mirkwood, visit Laketown, see the Lonely Mountain again. You're welcome to come, if you like, but I don't make much of a traveling companion."  
  
"Whoever's going where, we need to get out of here," Erynsir spoke up.  
  
"Wish granted," Sarah said with a grin.  
  
This time, everybody jumped.  
  
"Who're you?" demanded Saradoc.  
  
"Ambassador for Altariel Galadriel of Lorien. You've made off with her friends and kin, and she wants them back. All aboard for Caras Galadhon!" Sarah hollered recklessly.  
  
"Bye! Thanks for the prophecy-thing!" called the Brandybuck she- Hobbit.  
  
With a flourish of Narya, Sarah; Megan; Jeremie; Erynen; and Erynsir had gone, leaving the bewildered Hobbits staring at the spot where they had been, the friends of Men and Angels and Elves.  
  
Press the magic button and you shall make us happy. 


	37. Shade of the Morning Sun

I'm sorry this is late; I got sick and couldn't finish the chapter. Thank you to all the reviewers! You are loved! *Gives out elf-pirate plushies*  
  
~Phe-chan~  
  
Chapter 37: Shade of the Morning Sun  
  
A well stood in the middle of a clearing. Tall trees and brush thick enough to block any entrance or exit surrounded the clearing on all sides. Andrea stood, surprised to find herself in such peaceful surroundings. The whole world was silent and still. There was something cool and heavy in her hand. Andrea brought it up to see what it was. The object was a small golden coin, though she couldn't tell what sort of coin it was. The well seemed familiar, though. Its old, crumbling walls beckoned with an unspoken promise of comfort. Slowly, her feet moved, as if of their own will, treading softly on the soft grass and moss.  
  
Looking over the well's stone side, she saw her face reflected back at her: tangled red hair, a face smudged with dirt, and bent glasses.  
  
'What is your desire? What is it you want most?' The familiar voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Andrea turned to try and find its source. There was only the clearing. 'Make a wish,' the voice sang out. Andrea's attention was drawn back to the coin in her hand. Leaning over the well again, she stared at her reflection. Her hand moved out, then, and the coin slipped from her fingers.  
  
"Let it be right," Andrea whispered as the coin hit the water with a soft plunk. The water rippled out, lapping at the sides of the well. Just as she straightened to leave, Andrea noticed a change in the water's reflection.  
  
The liquid shimmered and began to flash images. Andrea leaned closer to see.  
  
A copper haired child struggled to open a door in a dusty attic. A golden haired elf gazed at the stars with a sad look upon his fair face. Another girl, tall and with hair that fell in waves, watched her red haired friend cry tears onto the pages of a large brown book. A group of friends huddled around a table, laughing as they stacked their menus into a shaking tower. An auburn haired girl in a golden gown slapped the face of a shocked elf. A small figure in elven armor fell from the back of a horse. Two almost identical elves talked near a fire. On a dark battlefield soldiers fought and fell. A pale elven figure lay upon a bed, unmoving.  
  
The last image seemed to linger, and Andrea leaned closer. The image was of two figures, though it was impossible to tell their identities. One seemed to be crowned with a golden glow, and stood watching as the other danced about, a joyful wisp of ruby and snow colored wind. Andrea leaned closer, intent on seeing the faces of the happy pair. She never noticed that she had leaned far enough for her feet to leave the ground.  
  
The side of the old well gave way, then, pitching her forward into the dark water. And as she fell she screamed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Andrea woke with a start. She blinked blindly at the reddish brown blur in front of her. She moved to reach her glasses and felt a warm weight lift from her shoulder.  
  
"Here," said the blur's gruff voice, and Andrea felt her glasses pressed into her palm. When she had set them on her nose, thanking God and her mom's insistence on buying stronger lenses that they were not broken, she turned back to the blob, which turned out to be a short man with a fuzzy face. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking at her with concern. Andrea shook her head, looking around and bringing her hand to hold the pouch around her neck, only to remember that it had been lost.  
  
"Where...where am I?" she asked, sleep still clouding her memories.  
  
"Helm's Deep," the dwarf answered. Andrea cocked her head, her eyes on the sparkling walls of the cavern.  
  
There are times in life when things become so impossibly hopeless that the human mind cannot focus long on reality. For Andrea, who had no way to know if she would ever see her friends, family, or home again and had no way to tell if said friends were safe, it was now one of those times. And the only thought her brain could process at the moment was that the last time she had been in a cavern, she spilt dirty paint water on the dwarf whose son now kept her company. This thought was far funnier than it should have been. As she fell to the ground in laughter, Andrea wondered if she had now officially gone insane. But then that thought coming from her made her laugh harder. After all, her clearest childhood memories were of being 'fairy spelled' in Mirkwood, and then being asked to read "The Hobbit" by her new friend - who wasn't exactly normal herself.  
  
Gimli watched the whole spectacle in complete shock and utter confusion. "What do you find funny?" he asked in a huff.  
  
"It's just...." Andrea gasped, still shaking with laughter. "It's just that last time I was in a cave," she paused, fighting to draw oxygen into her trembling lungs, "I spilt paint water on a dwarf. That, and I think I've now lost my last shred of sanity."  
  
The dwarf gave her a look that let her know he agreed with her last statement. "Do you wish me to find you any help, child?"  
  
"My name is Andrea," she informed him, whiping at the tears that had squeezed out during her laughter. She started when she felt something hard scratch her cheek. Nothing else could have shocked her back into her senses more effectively than the sight of the ring. It sat innocently on her finger, the delicate gold and diamonds throwing off the light of the torches.  
  
Gimli was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. Andrea? Hadn't that been the name of the girl Legolas had told him about? It couldn't be, no human would look that young for that long, and yet...she matched the description perfectly: she had straight hair the color of bright copper and fire, and eyes that seemed to be the brown and green color of a forest. And she had also said something about paint water...  
  
"Are you Squee?" The dwarf's question caught Andrea by surprise.  
  
"To some," she answered quietly, rubbing her ring with one finger as if to draw comfort from the small band.  
  
"How?"  
  
"That, friend Gimli, is a long story that involves Pepsi, lawnmowers, chainsaws, time travel and ringing mirrors."  
  
"Er...I do not understand," Gimli said, before realizing something else. "And how did you know my name? How are you here?"  
  
"I know a lot about you, and your quest." Then her voice lightened again. "Forty-two," she told her companion without explanation. Gimli looked surprised and opened his mouth to say something in response, but Andrea continued. "And I didn't mean to come here. I'm not sure how I came to be here." The girl looked so sad in that moment that Gimli would rather her be laughing again, or even making the noise his elven friend had described.  
  
"Well, however it is you came to be here, Legolas will be glad of it." He waited as he spoke for a happy reaction. He didn't get it.  
  
Andrea stopped breathing at the mention of that name, and her gaze shot to the band of gold about her finger. "No," she breathed, "he's not the right one."  
  
"Wha-"  
  
"If he knows I'm here now, he won't ever find me in the future. It's just like why Thranduil couldn't come with us after the battle. Cause if Legolas knew I was here, I wouldn't ever be here, and then we would all blow up, which is not a good thing. That's what Sarah said, and she should know about stuff like that, I think. Gimli, you CAN'T tell him I'm here!" The said dwarf blinked, not understanding a word of the little human's babble. "Please...please don't tell him. Promise you won't!"  
  
"I'm not sure I understand why," he began, "but I will give my word to keep your presence a secret for as long as you wish it to be so," he finished solemnly.  
  
"Arigato, friend Gimli. You have my gratitude."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Hours passed. Gimli and Andrea had no further conversation, for the dwarf had gone to speak with some of the men and left the girl to amuse herself in whatever way she could. With her mind full of spinning half- thoughts, Andrea found she could no longer sleep, though her limbs felt like lead and jelly. Instead, she spent the time singing to herself and scratching images in the dust.  
  
"I keep recalling, how life used to be. Now and then I wonder. Have we changed? With your hand in mine, oh, the moments shine! Like the pictures in a storybook, we will turn the pages. Sharing pieces of the memory. I care for you now, as I did then, at our beginning..."  
  
Suddenly, there came a great noise. A trumpeting boom echoed again and again, shaking the very earth and the stone walls of the caverns. Shouts went out from the men, and many rushed past Andrea, who sat still, trying to decide what to do. Finally, with a shrug, she hurried after them into the morning's chaos.  
  
"...Great chocolate cows..." she breathed, taking in the scene before her. And then she noticed a movement upon the ridge.  
  
"Behold the White Rider!" cried a voice Andrea had never heard, though she knew who it belonged to. And then came a voice she DID know.  
  
"Mithrandir, Mithrandir! This is wizardry indeed!"  
  
Andrea ducked down, hiding herself as the foul army of orcs and evil men ran about in panic. And she waited.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The battle ended quickly after Gandalf's arrival. From her hiding place, Andrea watched. She wondered if she should do something, and if so, what that something was. By mid afternoon, her eyes had grown heavy, and she let her head rest against the rock.  
  
Something beside her fell onto the ground with a click. Turning her head, Andrea saw her cell phone.  
  
"How on earth?" She picked it up, staring at it in disbelief. "I must have put it in my pocket...that's weird." She pushed the small button on the top and the phone turned on with a beep. And it had a signal. "That...is the most impossible thing I ever..." Pausing, Andrea looked around at the place she had found herself in. "Never mind." She began scrolling through the names and numbers saved in the phone's memory. She reached one that read: MrJoseph. With a smile, Andrea pushed the call button.  
  
There was one ring, then another. When Andrea had lost count of the rings and was beginning to believe that trying the call had been pointless, a soft feminine voice answered.  
  
"I am come." Andrea blinked in surprise at the voice she had NOT expected.  
  
"You aren't Mr. Joseph."  
  
"...No, I am afraid I am not."  
  
"I'm confused now. And I think I lost my sanity somewhere... Can I go home now?" Andrea asked, her tone pleading.  
  
"Where are you, young Andrea?" 


	38. Well Done

Whooooo! DVD! DVD! Phe-chan got her DVD! *dances* Yes, erm. you should go get it too. A warning, though: My Little Ponies, Labyrinth and LotR don't mix well. Anywhoo, I pas on a message from the Elf Huntress! To Kylie606 she sends the following message: You needn't apologize for your long review. Long reviews are much more fun, so we thank you greatly. The part about would she die for him was not meant as foreshadow, though who knows. To Lindiel Eryn she says: We mean a different kind of keeper. OK, I'm done playing messenger now. YAY! But I have advice to all you happy readers. A copy of the "Silmarillion", or at the very least, a copy of the "Tolkien Handbook" would come in handy while reading this fic. I can say no more. Thanks to all the wonderful reviewers!  
  
~Phe-chan~  
  
Chapter 38: Well Done  
  
The city my mother loves best, Sivi mused, governed by Star Dome of the line of Dior: Rivendell that the Eldar call Imladris. What did she mean me to do here? Usually, she gives me things, things to help me in my task......... Let me see...  
  
She flipped open Andrea's bag. There were footsteps down the corridor. What had her mother said?  
  
"The Elven Star Dome may not welcome you..."  
  
If that were so, then Sivi were better not to be found. She ducked into an adjoining chamber and closed the door quietly behind herself. Then she turned around to survey the room - and started horribly.  
  
"Frodo?" she whispered.  
  
The Hobbit was lying asleep in a long Elven bed, his lidded eyes rimmed in pale red, and his brow glistening with a half-broken fever. Standing guard over him was the likeness of a lady of the Elves, robed and unsmiling.  
  
"So I am in Rivendell before the Fellowship's departure. Then those footsteps most likely belong to Gandalf, Samwise, Aragorn, or Elrond Star Dome the Half-Elven, and in any of those cases, it is probable they come to see to Frodo. I am still not safe."  
  
She moved around the room, Andrea's bag slung over her shoulder, slipped out onto the balcony, and swung herself over the edge. The intricate Elven carvings formed a perfect lattice-like trellis so that she could climb easily down to the stone walkway that coursed around and through the city. She dropped to the ground, landing on her feet with practiced ease.  
  
Hearing soft voices approaching, she slid behind the bole of one of the trees that could be found growing in the middle of the path. It was too slender to hide her, so she dropped to her knees and pretended to be concerned with the bushes at its base, as if she were no more than an elven gardener. The voices passed her by, unheeding, and she chanced a look at their owners. Aragorn and Arwen were walking together through the fair Elven streets, and Sivi watched the Elven princess wistfully. She had always admired Arwen and desired greatly a chance to make her acquaintance... but now was obviously not the time.  
  
So Sivi sat down by the tree and let her long, red-gold hair fall around her face. She was tired, inexplicably tired. She tried to keep her mind on task, but her eyes were heavy. She curled up behind the flowering shrubs at the tree's base and fell asleep.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Melui!" cried Gil-galad, throwing his arms around her shoulders.  
  
She allowed him to hold her for the briefest moment, but then pulled away.  
  
"It feels odd for us to do that without a chaperone," she blushed, "even if we are only dreaming."  
  
"I'm sorry," he said gently.  
  
"No, it's alright. Where are you?"  
  
Gil-galad looked around. The sea was glassy and calm, reflecting the glistening stars.  
  
"Cuivienen, where we always meet this way," he said off-handedly.  
  
"No, no, not where are WE in the DREAM; I mean, where are you when you're awake," Sivi laughed. "That sounds so weird," she added lightly.  
  
"Weird?" Gil-galad queried.  
  
"Extremely unusual," Sivi explained, smiling at the déjà vu.  
  
"I see. Yes, well, Sarah and I have been transported to Lorien," Gil-galad said. "Christina and her friend Boromir are there as well -"  
  
"BOROMIR?!" Sivi shouted.  
  
Gil-galad's ears flattened and stuck out at odd angles.  
  
"Aiya, Melui, my hearing," he murmured painfully. "Christina brought her friend Boromir to Lorien with her. Is that a problem, then?"  
  
"Boromir is supposed to be dead!" Sivi cried incredulously. She made a funny noise in her throat that sounded like, "Ohhhhhurgghhh."  
  
"Even as I am?" Gil-galad commented wryly.  
  
"EXACTLY!! If we don't stop changing the future, Daddy's going to throw a FIT! Not to mention Uncle Mand -"  
  
Sivi broke off and became completely silent.  
  
"Ereinion," she murmured. "I - um, well, I..."  
  
"You stutter, Melui," he said, brushing her cheek with tender, reassuring fingers. "It is unlike you."  
  
Suddenly, Sivi remembered her father saying,  
  
"The first guy, besides me, that can make you stutter will be your husband - I'm sure of that."  
  
Sivi turned rose-red.  
  
"I told you a half-truth," she said hurriedly, "that night in the shell tower. I'm neither human nor mortal, though I assume that form... that fana."  
  
"Assume - wait," Gil-galad said, going even whiter than he had in his tent before the battle, his turquoise eyes wide as bucklers. "WAIT. FANA?"  
  
Sivi winced.  
  
"Let me tell you a little about my family," she whispered.  
  
"Yes, please," Gil-galad managed softly.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Sivi awoke the next morning under the tree in Rivendell. He had taken it rather well, actually. Well, one hurdle behind her, another ahead. She began to ponder again what her mother had meant for her to do here. If she were not meant to be recognized, should she change her form, become an Elda? No, her mother had said that she would not be welcomed, and that probably meant, knowing her mother, that she would be received unkindly in any form.  
  
"I am in Rivendell before the Fellowship's departure," she murmured, trying to work it out by talking through it. "That probably means that I need to help one of the members of the Fellowship before they leave. I can't do anything for Frodo... I don't see why the other three Hobbits would need me... Aragorn definitely doesn't need my help... Boromir? Should I say something to him, about the Ring, perhaps? I don't think Mother would want - well, but that's the thing about Mother: I'm never really sure what she wants. So, maybe -"  
  
"Cúedhel, Cúedhel, won't you leave the past in the past? She is gone, but I am here."  
  
Sivi stopped and listened. It was the voice of a woman - it sounded human. She hadn't known there were any human women in Rivendell. A male voice answered, and Sivi knew it instantly: Legolas.  
  
"Whose fault is that, Witch? Do not touch me. Go and throw yourself at one of your entourage."  
  
"My entourage is gone," the female said carelessly. "I sent them from me, as they were needed elsewhere."  
  
"My father Thranduil required you to have a guard as befits a lady when traveling. Do you defy him?"  
  
There was a dangerous edge to Legolas' voice that made even Siobhán shiver. Apparently, the woman was either very brave or very foolish, for she went on derisively,  
  
"This world knows greater Powers than your father's. I obey THEM, and they have called for my soldiers."  
  
"So suddenly, and without a word of notice to anyone, they have gone? The warriors of my father do not behave so," Legolas said with authority.  
  
"I chose my own entourage," the woman sneered. "They have done what I commanded them to do and gone where I commanded them to go."  
  
"Where you commanded them to go?" Legolas repeated, and there was a note of sudden unease in his voice. "And where have you commanded them to go?"  
  
"They have gone ahead to wait for me," the female said cryptically.  
  
"What, in the Black Land?" Legolas snarled hatefully.  
  
"How did you guess?" the woman laughed hideously.  
  
"I do not pretend to understand you, Dark One," Legolas said with obvious loathing, "but my father has decreed that you will have a guard, and while you live in Mirkwood, you will obey Thranduil King."  
  
"I will never return to your cursèd wood unless it be on your arm," the woman vowed.  
  
"Then do not return, and the wood will be the merrier. You will not have Andrea's place."  
  
Sivi rose carefully and turned. Around the curving side of Elrond's palace, she could see Legolas, his brow furrowed in anger and disgust. The female speaker was hidden by the building. Keeping her head down and her stride casual, Sivi ambled in that direction, but to the right a little, towards the open forest.  
  
"That place was mine before it ever was hers," the female voice said bitterly.  
  
"By way of an arranged marriage," Legolas snapped. "You never held my heart. You know that."  
  
"She will not return to you. YOU know THAT, and I hope you die of it, die of a broken heart!" cried the female speaker, and rounded the building at a run.  
  
Sivi gaped as the woman ran by her - it was an Elven woman! Her skin was an ashen gray, unlike most elves'; her hair and eyes were jet black; and her expression was one of malice and hatred. Her voice had lacked that soft, light, somewhat ethereal quality that denoted the tones of the Elves. Her voice was... Sivi reflected a moment. Her voice was unpleasantly sultry. Then Sivi realized who the woman had been, and of a sudden the conversation made sense.  
  
"Morniwen," she said darkly. "That was Legolas' ex-fiancée, Morniwen, and they were talking about Andrea."  
  
Then Sivi knew what to do. She pulled her hood over her head and stole softly up behind Legolas, whose brow was leaned against the Elven building in grief.  
  
"She will not return, it is true," Sivi said quietly. Legolas whirled.  
  
"What did you say?" he demanded. "Who are you?"  
  
"She will not return to you... until you go to her first."  
  
"Who are you?" he asked again. "What do you mean, until I go to her?"  
  
Sivi took a step backwards, baiting him, then darted across the walkway, knowing he would give chase.  
  
She passed through one of the Elven arches, down some stairs, and over a bridge into the council's place of meeting. All the while, she was groping inside Andrea's satchel. She stopped beside the pedestal in the center of the round veranda, feigning that she needed to catch her breath. Legolas came sprinting up behind her. She gave him a startled look and pretended to drop something out of fright. Then, clutching Vilya, she vanished.  
  
"It was well done, my Gem."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Legolas blinked at the spot where she had been, then moved to pick up whatever it was she had left. He gave a cry of pain: it was Andrea's "toolbox." He lifted the carven lid, and a sheet of parchment fluttered to the ground: a painting of the night sky over Mirkwood; the stars caught like fireflies. In the bottom corner - Legolas' hand shook -, a message: "To Legolas, from Squee - I did it."  
  
The review button is hungry! 


	39. Valar's Pet

Legolas lay on his side, his arm stretched out full-length, supporting his powerful jaw; his saffron hair fanning in silk strands round his head like a brilliant corona; his mouth ever so slightly open; and his eyes closed. His grey leggings were partially visible from beneath the burgundy ripples of the coverlet, which now only half-covered him. The crisp white bandages fell away from his torso, revealing - clean, unpiercèd flesh. The last remnants of evidence of the Black Mace's terrible power had been completely erased: there was no wound.  
  
From the silhouette of a large Elven statue, a figure watched him silently. After a moment, a soft, prolonged chuckle issued therefrom. A voice followed.  
  
"My poor Cúedhel. What, then, since I met you last?"  
  
Legolas' eyes flickered and opened. Lifting his golden head, he got slowly to his feet. The coverlet spilled like dark wine to the stone beneath him.  
  
"Rivendell..." he murmured, looking around at the empty Council seats. "But I was... Gondor... Orodruin... Did I dream? But then, I had dreamed Andrea, if that be so."  
  
Raising his eyes to the heavens, he pleaded,  
  
"Nay, nay, say me nay! I held her! Where is she?"  
  
"Looking for me, Cúedhel?" Morniwen asked softly, stepping from the afternoon shadows. Before Legolas could answer, she took advantage of his shock to continue,  
  
"No, of course you're not. You're looking for HER. You're looking for the CHILD, the MORTAL, the little copper-headed fool."  
  
"Where is Andrea?" he shouted.  
  
"I have no idea, and if I did, I wouldn't care. I warned you, the last time. I did warn you. But I like you, Legolas. So I'll give you one chance to redeem yourself. Give me the Ring of Adamant."  
  
Legolas' hand moved to grasp the star on its silver chain round his neck, where Sivi and Andrea had placed it before leaving Minas Tirith. It threw watery rays of light across his otherwise bare chest. Very, very quietly, Legolas answered her, his voice deadly.  
  
"You always did want," he said clearly, "everything you could not have. You always did want the things - the people - that were not yours. I will not give you what is not mine to bestow. I will not sully a Ring of Power with the blood that stains your wicked hands."  
  
"Blood?" Morniwen said, her voice shaking with fury.  
  
"Yes, blood. I knew it, that day in Rivendell, years ago. You killed them - your entourage. I didn't know why, but I knew you had done it. That's why - that's one reason why - I would not touch you."  
  
"You fool," Morniwen laughed icily. "Why would I kill them? What could I have gained? No, I USED them; I'm still using them. They make very loyal followers, the Uruks. I didn't kill them - your friend from Rohan did, or he killed some of them, at any rate."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Legolas demanded, a shiver traveling up his spine. Suddenly, his mind realized - his heart wouldn't accept, but his mind realized.  
  
"Whom do you serve? Dare you set yourself against the Valar?" he said, and his voice shook; whether from anger or shock, none know.  
  
"I set myself against the Valar, yes, Prince of Mirkwood. I set myself against Vairë, Yavanna, and Varda, and -" she quivered, as though gathering her courage. "And - and, yes, I set myself against Ilúvatar, as well."  
  
"WITCH!" cried Legolas. "D'you not know what you say?!"  
  
"I know what I say, Legolas son of Thranduil!" she cried, her voice rising breathlessly. "Do YOU know what I say? No, no, you can't, can you? You don't understand," she cried madly. "You have EVERYTHING! You have EVERYTHING! And I had NOTHING, and do you know what my lord the Necromancer promised me? EVERYTHING!!"  
  
"They're empty, Morniwen, they're empty - all his promises! Don't you see that? They're false! Where is he now, your precious Necromancer?"  
  
"He's dead, and you did it, you did that, and I'll make you writhe for it! I will bring him back, and his strength will be concentrated in ME, and it's I who'll never leave his side, I! and not a golden Ring!"  
  
"Speaking of Rings," legolas interrupted, his voice strangely calm -, "it was you, wasn't it, who stole Narya and Vilya?"  
  
"O, yes," Morniwen said proudly. "O, yes. I have powers, you see, but they are not great yet. If I can possess the Three, if I can taint them for my purposes, then it will be that much more power for my master."  
  
"Was it you who brought me here to Rivendell?" Legolas asked quietly.  
  
"Yes, though I must say I expected Lady Galadriel. I called for Nenya, you see. Now that I have Narya and Vilya, I can match the Lady of Light."  
  
Then Legolas did laugh.  
  
"Idiot!" he said scathingly. "Think you that Queen Galadriel's power comes only from a ring? Have YOU been instructed by the Valier? Have YOU lived for three Ages of the world, gathering to yourself all the while beauty, power, and the adoration of hundreds of followers? Can YOU know all the mind of the Enemy, the one you call 'master,' while forbidding him to see even a thought that flashes across yours? No! But the Queen of Lorien has done all of these things, and what is more, she has the utmost faith in her God."  
  
"I have faith in the Necromancer," Morniwen said stubbornly, seething.  
  
"Your Necromancer lives no longer, save as a wretched, disembodied shadow, and while I live and breathe I will do all in my power to make certain he remains thus," Legolas snapped sharply.  
  
"What can you do against two of the Rings of Power?" Morniwen demanded mockingly.  
  
"You have no Rings!" cried Legolas triumphantly, for now he knew that his journey through time had been no dream, since he still possessed the Elven Ring that Galadriel had given him, and now he remembered the last thing he had seen before he fell: a frost over Orodruin and a sapphire light in Sivi's hand.  
  
Morniwen laughed and put a hand to her throat. She drew out a chain from beneath her clothing, and then froze in shock as it became apparent that there were, indeed, no rings about it.  
  
"What have you done?" she hissed, and in her eyes there was a Gollum-like madness and a lusting thirst.  
  
"We have changed Time," Legolas declared in a strong, clear, undaunted voice.  
  
"You FOOL!!!" cried the Elven-witch.  
  
"Who is the fool, Harlot of Darkness? The one who serves the Light of the World, Whose Promises have never been vain and Whose Word has never proved false? Or is it the one who courts Deceit and expects Truth in return?"  
  
Morniwen's mouth worked in dumb, passionate rage, and then she let out a shriek that might have been heard from Carn Dûm to Harad.  
  
"I! WILL! MAKE! YOU! WRITHE!!" she roared.  
  
She splayed her hands, stretching her arms full-length towards him, and a wave of licorice black shot THROUGH Legolas' body and out his back, decimating a stone pillar behind him. Legolas picked himself up off of the floor and brushed himself off.  
  
"I can't help but think that that was supposed to be painful," he commented softly. "Any thoughts as to why it wasn't?"  
  
Morniwen stared at him in horror. Agony - he was supposed to be in agony. Why wasn't he?  
  
"I did pick THIS up while I was on the ground," Legolas continued mildly, turning in his hand a long, slender, flat-bladed sword. The hilt was of a strange white metal set with many sapphires and emeralds, and the blade seemed to be made of glistening diamond.  
  
Morniwen hissed through her teeth and backed away.  
  
"Then you know it?" Legolas queried with raised brows.  
  
"So you even consort with the Queen of the Valier now?" Morniwen screeched. "No wonder you've become so arrogant!"  
  
"The Queen of the Valier?" Legolas exclaimed, genuinely surprised.  
  
"Do you know nothing, ignorant fool? That is Silmë, the Sword of Varda Elbereth!"  
  
Legolas gasped and made to drop the blade, amazed that he was not already smitten to the earth for his impudence in having touched a weapon of the queen of the angelic powers, but it clung to his palms and seemed to shimmer insistently. From beyond the heavens, a female voice like light beneath the ocean's waves came to his heart:  
  
"Take it, Legolas son of Thranduil. It belongs to you, along with much of my power that I gave it when Aulë forged it for me - consider it a boon in exchange for the wound you gave to Sauron, servant of Melkor whom I hate. May it serve you well."  
  
Legolas stood rooted to the spot, trying to discern whether or not Morniwen had heard Queen Varda's words. She seemed to focus only on the now-gleaming blade gripped in Legolas' hands, her face contorted in terror and fury. Legolas felt suddenly powerful. He was master of the situation, and he knew it.  
  
"What, then, sorceress?" he cried. "Will face the Sword of Varda and the Ring of Adamant! Or will you slink back to the serpent's hole you came from?"  
  
Morniwen hissed again, and her body convulsed. Behind her bodice, the muscles of her stomach contracted. She plunged her hand INTO her gut and pulled out a blade of rough, rusted iron. Legolas fought the urge to be sick.  
  
"I will fight you, Pet of Varda, and I will triumph and win your precious blade for my master! This for a servant of the Flame!"  
  
She lashed out with her iron sword, but Legolas' feet were the nimblest of Elves' from his travels with Frodo the Ringbearer. He darted under the iron and swung his own sword.  
  
"Nay, sorceress: THIS for the one who prostitutes herself to Evil Incarnate!" he said in a thunderous voice, and the diamond blade sliced Morniwen's temple and continued down her cheek, across her throat, and through her collar-bone. She screamed and lunged. He dodged and struck again, crying mightily,  
  
"THIS for the one who presumes to defy the Lord!"  
  
This time, the diamond pierced Morniwen's brow and slid across her other temples. Without even giving her time to retaliate, he swung again.  
  
"THIS for the pain your 'master' caused Frodo to whom I pledged my bow!"  
  
The Sword of Varda was suddenly thrust through the Elven witch's shoulder as she shrieked in pain.  
  
"And, at the last, THIS for a copper-haired mortal child who OWNS MY HEART!"  
  
Varda's blade buried itself of Morniwen' breast; there was an eruption of foul black fire and a cry to slit Utumno; and Morniwen was gone.  
  
"Pretty One!" cried a voice behind Legolas.  
  
The Elven-Prince turned to see an assortment of people watching him: Elrond, Galadriel, Celeborn, Haldir, Sarah, Megan, Jeremie, Erynen, Erynsir, Gil-galad, Sivi - and then his eyes came to rest on Andrea, and he saw his beloved alone.  
  
"Squee!" he shouted, to the obvious confusion of Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel, Erynen, Erynsir, Haldir, Gil-galad, and Boromir (whom Legolas had not yet noticed).  
  
Andrea glomped him hard, and he set her on her feet with a wild laugh of relief. As he held her, one hand still clasped the Sword of Varda, which despite to the many wounds it had given was perfectly clean. Sivi's eyebrows rose.  
  
"Legolas son of Thranduil!" she called in a ringing voice. "See how my mother favors you!"  
  
Legolas followed her gaze to the blade in his hand.  
  
"You m -"  
  
His eyes shot open and he became three shades whiter than a winter moon. Heedlessly, Andrea cried,  
  
"My Pretty One is better!"  
  
"Would some one like to explain to me just what is going on?" Boromir demanded again.  
  
Legolas started and passed out cold.  
  
"My Pretty One is NOT better!" Andrea panicked.  
  
Sivi lifted her hands to the eve's first star and began to laugh. 


	40. Answer Me This

Notes from EHAB: We have a few words to define in this chapter. "Lachlotiel" means "blossom garlanded with flame," "Vardamiriel" means "garlanded with Varda's gems," and just in case you've been wondering, the "hostage Elves'" names, Erynen and Erynsir, mean "forest water" and "forest river," respectively. Thank you for your reviews and your patience! God bless all of you!  
  
"Okay, Boromir," Christina grinned, "you finally get that explanation now. Sorry it didn't come sooner, but we were all kinda busy."  
  
"Yeah, you know, what with adventure-hungry hobbits to deal with," said Jeremie.  
  
"And lots and lots of orcs to have to get away from," Andrea added.  
  
"Then, of course, there was Legolas having to kick the elf-sorceress's tail," Sarah laughed.  
  
"And I was working hard to keep Legolas' younger self from keeling over in grief," Sivi smiled.  
  
"Will you all stop? You're only confusing me all the more!" Boromir cried plaintively. "Please?"  
  
"Sorry," Christina replied easily. "At any rate, what would you like to know first?"  
  
"What's going on - I want to know what's going on," Boromir answered promptly.  
  
"Could you narrow that topic down a bit?" Christina said wryly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Can you ask more specific questions and let us answer them one at a time?"  
  
"Ah... who are you?" Boromir said carefully.  
  
A round of introductions followed, moving counter-clockwise around the ring of Council seats. The friends had elected to stay in Rivendell for a few days while they rested and discussed the details of their adventures. Elrond had commanded that the Council floor be carefully avoided by the curious Elves of Imladris while these discussions were going on.  
  
"That's question one answered," Sarah said lazily. "How about questions two?"  
  
"Where is Frodo? How have we come to Amon Hen to Lorien to Rivendell in so short a time? Why could we not use the same method to get to Mount Doom?"  
  
"Actually, those were questions two, three, and four," Sarah laughed.  
  
"I don't know where Frodo is, but -" Christina began.  
  
"What? How? What of the Quest?" Boromir demanded sharply, cutting her off.  
  
"Listen, dude, the trip from Amon Hen to Lorien took a little longer than you think," Christina sighed ruefully. "The Quest has been completed for months now."  
  
"WHAT?" Boromir cried. "I do not understand," he murmured weakly.  
  
"Because the One Ring is destroyed, the Elves can now use the Three more easily. It was by the power of the ring Narya that you were brought through time to Lorien," Sivi said with quiet dignity.  
  
"Through time - but why?" Boromir asked desperately.  
  
The silence hung heavy and thick. This was the question that Christina had been dreading. She took a gargantuan breath, then released it slowly.  
  
"OK, you know that ugly orc-dude I shot?" she said uncomfortably.  
  
The memory was blurred, vague, but Boromir thought that he did and said so.  
  
"OK, well, dude, if I hadn't shot him... he would've killed you," Christina said softly.  
  
"But -"  
  
"And since you were supposed to be dead, we - I mean, I - couldn't leave you in that time, or the future could have been changed completely, even to the point that Frodo might not have been able to destroy the Ring. Then the Elven Rings wouldn't be able to take us back I time, so we couldn't save you, and then Frodo would destroy the Ring -"  
  
"But then you WOULD be able to go back in time and save him, and the universe would explode," finished Gil-galad. "I think I ALMOST understand it now," he murmured wonderingly.  
  
"Good job, my Love," Sivi smiled proudly.  
  
"But - I -" Boromir stammered incoherently.  
  
"I have a question," Legolas spoke up. "Where is Joseph?"  
  
"He went home," Sivi said sadly.  
  
"Mr. Joseph already went back to New York?" Jeremie queried.  
  
"No..." Gil-galad said, trembling in spite of himself. "No, he has gone home to Aman."  
  
"Aman?" Galadriel breathed sharply. "Has he been killed?"  
  
"No..." Sivi sighed. "My father is the Vala Manwë."  
  
Every mouth dropped open, yet no one made a sound, so Sivi continued resignedly,  
  
"And my mother is Queen Varda."  
  
"And -" Haldir found at least part of his fair voice, "and, Sarah, you are her cousin..."  
  
"Yes, I am the daughter of Aulë and Yavanna," Sarah said. "The other Valar have given me leave to call them 'uncle' or 'aunt,' so Sivi and I are cousins."  
  
"So... 'Sarah'... what is your real name?" Haldir asked.  
  
"Lachlotiel," Sarah said easily.  
  
"And your cousin's?" he inquired.  
  
"Vardamiriel," Sivi supplied.  
  
"Daughters of the Valar," Galadriel said quietly, "why are you here? Why was Manwë with you?"  
  
"My father was here to assist me for a time," Sivi said in a tone of reserve. "Our purposes do not concern this quest."  
  
"Did you know?" Erynsir asked of Megan.  
  
"I only found out very recently," she replied, "when we were preparing to leave Gondor."  
  
"I was clueless," Jeremie put in.  
  
"Me, too," Christina added.  
  
"Question: how did I get cell coverage in Middle-Earth?" Andrea asked. "And why did I get Galadriel when I tried to call Mr. Joseph?"  
  
"Daddy gave you a signal and then rerouted the call," Sivi explained simply, shrugging.  
  
"Oh... right," Andrea muttered. "I'm engaged to an Elf and an angel is rerouting my phone calls. My life is so... so..."  
  
"Weird?" Legolas smiled.  
  
"Hai."  
  
Andrea sat up suddenly.  
  
"Hey! Sivi? What did you do with my tool-box? It wasn't there after you gave me my bag back!"  
  
"Here it is, my Squee," Legolas laughed gently, passing her the small Elven box. "Sivi, er, gave it to me to keep for a while. I thought that you might ask for it, so I kept it, as Gimli would say, 'ready to hand.' And..."  
  
He pulled out a small pouch on a cord.  
  
"Here," he said softly, "is something else that belongs to you."  
  
"My tiara!" she cried happily. "Or, well, actually, it's Sivi's si - Oh, oops, never mind, sorry," she stuttered, glancing apologetically at Sivi.  
  
"How did Legolas get to New York, anyway?" Megan asked in a swift attempt to change the subject, since Andrea and Sivi obviously preferred not to discuss it.  
  
"He must have used my - I mean, the - tiara," Andrea said.  
  
Ah, well, Megan had tried.  
  
"I was holding it one night, wishing for you," Legolas told Andrea softly, "and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was in Central Park."  
  
"Wishing, yes, exactly," Andrea nodded in her happy "Squee" fashion. "See?"  
  
She held up the tiara and pointed to the crystal star.  
  
"It's a wishing star; it grants your biggest wishes!"  
  
"So, what about Morniwen?" Elrond inquired at length. "How did she manage...?"  
  
"Morniwen was in league with the Necromancer long before the Council of White drove him from Dol Guldur," Legolas sighed. "Every day at dusk, she traveled to an arranged place in the forest to meet one of his dark messengers. When she learned he was searching for the Three, she began to make efforts to get close to me, thinking as Prince, I would know something of the Rings' whereabouts. Whether she actually loved me or not, I will never know, nor will I care. Andrea began to come between us, and Morniwen decided to go to Rivendell for the double purpose of getting away from Andrea and finding out Elrond's potential connection to the Rings. When Andrea left, I told Morniwen -"  
  
Legolas broke off and grinned mirthlessly.  
  
"I told Morniwen a lot of things, but the point of them all was that I never wanted to see her again. She continued to haunt my steps, and when I came to Rivendell for the Council, she followed me with an entourage of orcs that she had bewitched to appear as Elves. When the Enemy called for soldiers, she sent them from her abruptly, and I thought that she had killed them. While she was in Rivendell, she stole Vilya from Elrond, then left for the Havens to take Narya from Círdan. She thought that with two of the Rings, she would be a match for Galadriel for the third. She used her powers to summon Nenya and its bearer, unaware that I was carrying the Ring at the time. We fought; Queen Varda protected me and granted me a weapon, and in the end, Morniwen disappeared. I know not if she be dead, or -"  
  
"No, she isn't dead," Sivi said tiredly. "My mother feels the blackness where the sorceress hides. We may yet be called upon to deal with her again."  
  
Sarah leaned to her right and whispered in her cousin's ear.  
  
"No, Lach," murmured Sivi, "I doubt that very much."  
  
"Let us pray that you are right."  
  
Thank you wishing star  
  
"Down in the underground you'll find someone true. Yeah, down in the underground-a land serene, a crystal moooon! It's only forever; it's not long at all. Lost and lonely-that's underground.underground.la la la la.only forever is not long at all.hmmhumhmmm.which way?" Andrea stood in one of the spacious halls in the palace of Mirkwood. Currently, she was making a valiant attempt to become un-lost. She had come to a place where the hall split in two directions. Now," she asked herself, "would you go left or right?"  
  
"Left, at the moment," answered an unexpected voice.  
  
"Eeeep!" Legolas laughed as Andrea spun around, nearly losing her balance in the process.  
  
"Did my Squee get lost?" he asked gently, slipping his hand into hers.  
  
"Maybe," she whispered, "but I was looking for you." Legolas looked at his Squee for a moment. She had tightened her grip on his hand until it was quite painful, but that was not what worried him.  
  
"Andrea?" Her hair hid her face, as she was now looking down at the floor and wouldn't look up. "What troubles you?"  
  
"When everything was.. I thought.I just.I thought I had lost you again," she whispered. "You had just found me, and I was so happy.but then.then it went all crazy and you got hurt and then I got lost.. hiding cause you were there only it wasn't the RIGHT you. I was scared and I just.I didn't want to be alone again.it hurt inside too much." It took a moment for the elf to sort through her words to find the meaning behind them. Slowly, he realized what was bothering his little Squee. In one swift, graceful movement, he had knelt down and drawn her close, holding her in the safe circle on his arms.  
  
"Shh, Mela, I missed you as well," he told her. The only response she gave was burying her face in his shoulder. "I love you.my Squee."  
  
"And Squee loves you back," she laughed. Then she pulled back and brushed a finger down the side of his cheek. "I really do." Legolas grinned and copied her action by running his finger down her cheek, causing her to become an interesting shade of pink.  
  
Though I could not see you that night  
  
"Andrea, you're bouncing again," Sivi informed her friend while attempting to pin up the smaller girl's short hair.  
  
"Gomen.but I can't help it. The butterflies attack when I sit too still," Andrea answered. She twisted the golden band around her finger, a nervous habit she had gained over the past few weeks, as she no longer wore the tiara's pouch around her neck. Sivi laughed softly and pushed the last pin into place.  
  
"Done. You can put your glasses on now." Andrea did and faced herself in the mirror. Sivi smiled at the shocked expression on her friend's face. "I take it you like, then?"  
  
"Ha.hai." Andrea stammered as the door opened.  
  
"You ready in there?" Sarah asked with a grin. Andrea looked one last time at the mirror, then nodded.  
  
Thank you wishing star  
  
The wedding was like a dream, Andrea decided when she thought back to it. Through the butterflies, which were throwing a party to end all parties inside her, she felt a pleasant halo of warm fuzziness. It had been odd, walking down the aisle with almost every elf in Mirkwood watching, but the smile Legolas gave her was enough to make her continue forward, though her nervousness kept her from just running up and glomping her pretty one. It was a hard urge to resist, even so. The pretty one, dressed up in silver, had never looked prettier.  
  
I knew you were still shining bright  
  
The party afterwards had been interesting as well. There was singing and music. There was also dancing, and Andrea managed to trip more than once. That fact, however, only seemed to amuse Legolas as he laughed and held her upwards. As they spun around the room, Andrea caught sight of Gil- galad dancing with her best friend, and Sarah pulling a reluctant Haldir onto the dance floor. Megan was also dancing, with one of the "hostage elves".  
  
Thank you wishing star  
  
Of course, there was a wedding cake. And toasting. And along with toast to the couples future happiness, there were also toast such as "to flaming lawnmowers" made by Megan, and "to Pepsi" made by Sarah - who was still latched onto Haldir at the time.  
  
Did you know I was counting on you?  
  
The stars came out as the sun was setting. Andrea was still glowing and the sugary cake had made her giggly. With a happy sigh, she looked down at the roses in her hands. A thought came to her.  
  
"Hey, guys.time to throw the bouquet," she announced with a laugh. All the elves present gave her questioning looks, Legolas included. "That's what they do at home," was her explanation, "to see who gets married next, or something like that." Andrea's friends and a few elven girls gathered behind her. Andrea looked over at Gil-galad before grinning.  
  
"Hey, Sivi!" she yelled as she threw the flowers over her shoulder, "CATCH!"  
  
You made the dream in my heart  
  
Come true  
  
Please feed the button? Reviews make it happy. 


	41. Yardgnome Wannabees

PurrrrrpleCapt--there is more, kitty kat.  
  
M`arevanye--*gives pirate eye patch to biggest fan*  
  
Captain Oblivious--Update "The Traveler The Lord of  
  
the Rings" soon! It's good! Here's the chappie! Sorry about the format; the computer has made up its mind to behave strangely. Chapter 42 will be posted tomorrow.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Legolas, look! I haven't fallen off yet!" The  
  
hobbits of the shire looked up to see the red haired  
  
rider who had shouted. As they watched, more riders  
  
came around the hill. One rider, who was obviously an  
  
elf, called ahead to the first.  
  
"Squee, watch out for the -" The hobbits winced as  
  
the first rider was hit in the head by the passing tree  
  
branch. The elf who had spoken looked to be somewhere  
  
between worry and laughter as he rode ahead of the  
  
others. The now injured rider had managed to stay on  
  
her horse and was rubbing her forehead and muttering  
  
something about the evil tree.  
  
Andrea continued to whimper that she wished for care  
  
bears to make marshmallow-roasting sticks out of the  
  
tree's dead remains, until she felt a hand on her  
  
elbow. Looking up, she met Legolas's dark eyes.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked, holding back a chuckle.  
  
"The tree wanted to be evil," she informed him,  
  
glaring as her pretty one couldn't help the laughter  
  
that bubbled up.  
  
"Perhaps, Mela, it only wished to say hello."  
  
"That's what my mom used to - GREAT SNICKERDOODLE  
  
MONKEY!" Her raised voice caused Legolas to wince and  
  
the hobbits to look around in a frightened manner.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Sarah asked, riding up beside  
  
the two.  
  
"MY MOM!" Andrea squealed, looking upset. The rest of  
  
the company exchanged confused looks. "I never told my  
  
mom about any of this," continued Andrea, "and now  
  
I've gone and married an elf and Mom doesn't even know  
  
they exist and..." she sighed. "I think she would not  
  
be very happy with me." She looked quite frightened at  
  
the idea, but when Legolas took her hand, she was  
  
visibly comforted.  
  
"Don't worry," Sivi spoke up, "I don't think she'd be  
  
TOO angry. After all -"  
  
"I never told her any of that, Sivi," Andrea sighed  
  
again. "She's not much into...fairytales."  
  
"Good thing this is all real, then," Megan quipped,  
  
"or you'd really have a problem." Andrea blinked, and  
  
then after a moment, laughed out loud. That might not  
  
have been the smartest thing to do, however, and she  
  
slid from the bare back of the horse.  
  
"Ouch..."  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Where are Pippin and Merry? And Sam, Frodo, and Bilbo?" Jeremie asked of Paladin.  
  
"I am afraid they disappeared some time ago, most  
  
likely on some adventure or another," said the short  
  
little furry man with a smile. "However, you are  
  
welcome to stay with me at my Smials until your friends return." With that, the hobbit waved them onward, singing one of those little walking songs. The friends  
  
exchanged looks, but then shrugged and followed.  
  
Days passed slowly, and for the first time in what  
  
seemed like forever, the company was allowed to simply  
  
relax and enjoy themselves. Legolas and Andrea had brought the company to the Shire for two reasons, namely to celebrate their honeymoon and to give Legolas an opportunity to visit his companions, the hobbits Frodo, Samwise, Meriadoc, and Peregrin. Yet after the couple had spent many weeks relaxing together and there seemed to be no sign of the four hobbits to be had, it was drawing close  
  
to the time to leave. The other hobbits, glad for any excuse  
  
to throw a party or feast, had decided to have a  
  
farewell/honeymoon party.  
  
The evening was a splendid affair, with bright  
  
banners and food to feed several armies. Legolas and  
  
Andrea had both arrived covered in spots of paint.  
  
When asked why, their only response was something  
  
about archery lessons and Middle Earth style  
  
paintball. After a while, the hobbits stopped asking  
  
what paintball was. The feasting and dancing lasted  
  
long into the night.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Erynen's back was beginning to hurt, and he was certain that if ever he got out of this tiny hole, he would discover that he had developed a stoop. It was almost like a nightmare; he couldn't find his way out of the place. Megan, Sarah, Haldir, and Erynsir met him in the corridor.  
  
"Where are you trying to get to?" Megan asked with a grin.  
  
"Out," Erynen answered immediately. "I want out of this hole. I want to be outside."  
  
"Fall in, then," Sarah laughed.  
  
Together, they managed to find the front door, and they stepped gladly out into the warm summer sunshine of the Shire.  
  
"This is a beautiful place," Megan said pleasantly. "I'd love to live here, except that I can't abide staying in these tee-tiny little burrows in the ground."  
  
"I can't abide all these freaky little fur-footed gnomes running around," Christina said from her perch on a flat rock above and behind the hole's front door.  
  
"Can't live in the Shire if you can't stand Hobbits," Sarah chuckled.  
  
"I don't WANT to live in the Shire. I hate this place," Christina said moodily. "I liked Gondor. THAT was awesome."  
  
"I prefer Gondor myself," Boromir agreed, resting placidly at the bottom of the knoll. "Still, this is a place and people worth preserving."  
  
"What don't you like about Hobbits?" Megan asked as the group settled itself in the grass on the side of the small hill. "They're cute."  
  
"Exactly! They're adorable! Adorable things make me nervous," Christina said.  
  
"Hope you never have kids," Sarah said under her breath.  
  
"And they keep following me around asking me for some kind of prophecy," Christina went on.  
  
Jeremie, sitting in the branches of a tree on the hillside, gave Erynsir a quick, apprehensive glance. The "hostage Elves" began to fidget uncomfortably.  
  
"I'm about to get seriously freaked out," Christina continued, "and if one more little yard-gnome wannabe comes and asks -"  
  
"Excuse me, Miss Christina," said a curly brown head that had just popped out of the door of the hole.  
  
Christina went straight up in the air, hissing and spitting like a mad cat, and came down again no less harried.  
  
"Warn a body!" she cried angrily. "Stupid, hairy, vertically challenged - urgh!"  
  
"Uh... breakfast is ready," the little Halfling said timidly. "Sorry to bother you."  
  
"You want us to eat breakfast after last night's feast?" Megan laughed. "And don't mind Christina; she's always testy in the morning."  
  
"Ah. But, of course you must eat breakfast. We can't let you go away hungry."  
  
"We're not hungry," Erynen told the Hobbit. "We had plenty last night."  
  
"You aren't hungry?" the Hobbit gasped, his eyes enormous.  
  
"Think of it this way," Jeremie offered. "None for us means more for you."  
  
The Hobbit considered for a moment.  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"Positive," Sarah affirmed.  
  
"Well, ah, alright, then. Good day."  
  
He drew his head back in and shut the door.  
  
"You enjoy this place, Lady Megan?" Erynen asked at length, savoring the soft, sweet country breeze.  
  
"It reminds me of the house we had in Tennessee when I was in high school," Megan commented. "It's quiet here, and you can hear the bees and smell the flowers, and there are shade-trees. I like it. If I had a piece of land like this, and maybe a couple of horses, I could be really happy. And please stop calling me 'Lady.'"  
  
Erynen was quiet for a long while, considering the references to 'Tennessee' and 'high school,' Megan's apparent love of the outdoors and of horses, and why she did not like being addressed with an honorific. He decided he liked her a great deal. She was unpretentious, amiable, and practical. She was responsible and tried to be understanding. He would have to give this matter a lot of thought.  
  
"I can tell you why Christina likes Gondor," Sarah said out of the silence.  
  
"It's big," Christina put in.  
  
"That, and you like the style of architecture, not to mention the fact that you thrive on crowds, and you prefer mountains and rivers to hills and creeks."  
  
"Right; the mountains and rivers are bigger."  
  
"You like the fact that it's old, its customs are old, and it has a slightly darker feel than the Shire..."  
  
"Correct again."  
  
"And you think the Gondorian Men are handsome."  
  
"Hey! What? No!!"  
  
Boromir excused himself on the pretext of going for a walk. 


	42. Union

Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo! EHAB here. Since I am posting this chapter only a day after the previous one was posted, I can only address questions raised in reviews submitted in that day's time. However, Phe-Chan and I will attempt to clear up other questions and respond to other comments in the final chapter of the fic, Chapter Forty-Three, to be posted next Tuesday. Lindiel Eryn, we shall not in this fic reveal where Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Bilbo have gone; that question will, however, be resolved in the sequel, alongside the question about the phrase "Sivi's si- ", spoken by Andrea in chapter Forty. However, in answer to your question about Gil-galad, he was indeed with them in the Shire, but it is not always altogether necessary to mention every character in a group when one has stated that the group is traveling as a whole. I'm glad you were paying enough attention to catch that, though. ( Thank you to all reviewers for taking the time to read the story and register your opinions. We love reviews!! And now, Chapter Forty-Two: Union  
  
Gil-galad stood by the shores of a white ocean. He knew that he was dreaming, but his surroundings were strange. Sivi placed a hand on his arm.  
  
"Is aught wrong, my Love?" she asked softly.  
  
"No, it is only that the sea seems different from before," he answered, puzzled.  
  
Sivi laughed.  
  
"But, my Love, that is because it is not the same one."  
  
He looked at her in surprise and confusion, his amber brows drawn together and his turquoise eyes perplexed.  
  
"This is the Gulf of Lhûn, on the shores of which rest the Grey Havens."  
  
"The Grey Havens..." he murmured, turning his troubled eyes on the glittering waters. The sun, too, was white, white-hot in the palest of skies.  
  
"You are unhappy," she said sadly.  
  
"No, no, I'm not! I just..."  
  
He shifted uncomfortably, then blurted out,  
  
"Are you nervous?"  
  
Sivi blinked at him, and then began to laugh in earnest.  
  
"Ah, my Love! Is THAT what troubles you? Of COURSE I'm nervous. Everyone is before their wedding day," she smiled, relieved.  
  
"I want you to be happy," he told her apprehensively. "I just don't know... I'm not sure how to... to be a good husband, to take care of you. How does one take care of a Vala's child? You could have so much, if you just went home to your parents. Why should you want to stay with me?"  
  
"Because I love you. Besides, you don't have to always think of me as the child of two Valar. I am that, but I'm still Sivi, too," she said softly.  
  
He caught, or thought that he caught, a small note of pleading in her voice.  
  
"I do know that, Melui," he reassured her. "I love you so much," he sighed contentedly. She had her arm through his, her fingers clutching his right hand, and her bronze-golden head inclined upon his shoulder. Then he started to chuckle.  
  
"I still don't really understand... exactly what you are," he said bemusedly. "That is, are you a Vala yourself? Or are you a Maia? Or something completely different?"  
  
"Do you want to know something funny?" she grinned sheepishly. "I have no idea. I think that they consider me a Vala, but I don't feel like one. I'm not as powerful as they are, and I'll never be as lovely."  
  
"Melui, you are beautiful!" Gil-galad cried. "You are the most beautiful being I have ever seen."  
  
"You've never seen my mother," Sivi reminded him.  
  
She was smiling good-naturedly up at him, but there was a pain behind her eyes. Suddenly, Gil-galad found the source of all the insecurities that he had never been able to understand in his beloved. After all, though he had never before considered this aspect of the situation, it must be extremely difficult to live in Queen Varda's shadow. He had heard tales before of parents achieving epic feats or being possessed of legendary attributes, thus setting for their children unattainable, and awfully frustrating, precedents and standards. Still, being the daughter of Varda Fanuilos, the fairest of all created beings, had to top them all.  
  
"Melui," he said gently, "your mother may be Varda and as lovely as a being can be, but you'll always be fairest in my sight."  
  
Sivi brought her free hand up to clutch his shoulder. A single tear slipped down her face, pausing in the corner of her lips and reflecting the light of Eärendil, the morning star.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
There was not so great a crowd at Sivi's wedding as there had been at Andrea's, for Legolas was a prince, whereas no one had ever heard of Sivi, and Gil-galad was generally thought to be dead. However, the turnout was fair, and the majority of the guests were... of high rank and repute. All of the inhabitants of the Grey Havens turned up, including Círdan. All fourteen Valar, a number of the Maiar, and some of the Elves of Tol Eressëa and Valinor were also present. In addition, there were several beings in attendance whose species no one could determine.  
  
Manwë was to give his daughter away, while Mandos performed the ceremony. All of the Ainur had assumed more or less human or Elven fana, though some of the fire Maiar seemed unaware that their burning hair and hands disturbed the Elves and Men. Varda was brilliant, even from within her Elven fana, but Gil-galad never saw her. The only person that he could see was his Ever-love.  
  
She was radiant in glittering white. She smiled at him, and at last her eyes were as glad as her mouth. She took his hands, and hers were smooth and soft. She spoke the vows; her voice was song to him.  
  
Mandos proclaimed them one, declared them husband and wife, and invited Gil- galad to kiss his bride. Gil-galad knew that he had never experienced joy until that one pure moment. She was his, he was hers, and THAT was a union: to belong to one another, protect, provide for, and cherish one another as precious, and to want nothing but God's Sovereign Will for one another and for their marriage as a whole. They could stand against the world; they were finally together. 


	43. Some Other Beginning's End

Dear Readers, I have an IMPORTANT NOTE before we begin our final chapter. Phe-Chan and I do NOT condone the consumption of intoxicating beverages in any form. The characters of Karen and Derek are meant to be interpreted as stuck-up jerks. The mean-spirited prank they pull is no more intended to encourage drinking than the character of Wormtongue was intended by Tolkien to encourage readers to lie. Thank you. - EHAB  
  
A few days after the wedding, all of the guests - or most of them, for the inhabitants of the Grey Havens did not participate - met on the beach to discuss what was to happen next. That is, they met to decide who was to stay in Middle-Earth and who was to return to New York.  
  
"Gil-galad and I have to go back to New York," said Sivi, "because Gil-galad is supposed to be dead in this world."  
  
"I guess that means Boromir has to come, too," Christina commented.  
  
"Right. Erynen and Erynsir have passed out of existence for a few millennia," Sivi went on, "so I guess they should come as well."  
  
"Andrea and I will come," Legolas said decidedly.  
  
"Sarah? Will you stay?" asked Celeborn.  
  
"No, if I stay, I'm going back to Aman, and I'm not ready to do that yet," the redhead answered lightly, squeezing Yavanna's hand.  
  
"I have no wish to leave the world of my birth," Haldir said.  
  
"Most of us, being in positions of authority, cannot do so anyway," Galadriel added.  
  
"I'm going back to New York, and I think Megan is, too," Jeremie said, and Megan nodded assent.  
  
"Uncle Ulmo," Sivi spoke up meekly, "since Daddy's staying here, do you think that you could. come.?"  
  
"I have no one to watch my realm while I'm away," Ulmo said gruffly, though he was inwardly very pleased to have been asked.  
  
"I could do that," Ossë offered eagerly.  
  
Ulmo gave his Maia a stern, dubious look.  
  
"I'll make sure he behaves, Lord Ulmo," Uinen smiled.  
  
"But where would I stay?" Ulmo asked testily. "Sivi and her husband will want her father's apartment, and Andrea and her prince will take the one Sivi and Andrea used to share."  
  
"I don't have a roommate," Jeremie stated.  
  
Ulmo sighed.  
  
"Very well."  
  
Sivi beamed.  
  
The soft waves' roaring became the noisy traffic's din. The salt brine gave way to the garbage stench. The group climbed the stairs to the apartments in silence. When they had reached the top, Sivi took charge.  
  
"Alright, Gil-galad and I are in Dad's old apartment; Andrea and Legolas are in our old apartment; Erynen and Erynsir are in Megan's old apartment; Megan, Sarah, and Christina are in Sarah's and Christina's old apartment; and Boromir and Uncle Ulmo are with Jeremie. Any questions or complaints?"  
  
No one had any, and everyone retired to their respective quarters. Sivi began showing Gil-galad how to operate light switches and things. Suddenly, the door-bell rang. Sivi went to the peep-hole and looked out.  
  
"Oh, toads, it's Derek and Karen," Sivi sighed.  
  
"Who?" Gil-galad asked curiously.  
  
"Some people my Dad worked with a few years ago. Try to act... normal."  
  
Gil-galad started to protest that he didn't know what this world's version of 'normal' involved, but Sivi had already opened the door.  
  
"Hi, guys," she said cheerfully.  
  
"Hey, it's the Sivster," Derek laughed.  
  
Gil-galad saw Sivi grimace as she slipped behind Karen to shut the door. He gathered she didn't like being called 'Sivster.'  
  
"Is your daddy home?" Karen asked condescendingly.  
  
"No, my daddy doesn't live here any more; he moved."  
  
"What? He didn't tell US about it," Karen sniffed affrontedly.  
  
"He didn't tell a lot of people. It has to do with his job," Sivi explained carefully, referring to Manwë's duties as King of the Valar.  
  
"I see," Karen said frostily. "And who's this silent soldier?" she asked, glancing disdainfully at Gil-galad.  
  
"My husband Erin. Erin, this is Karen and her husband Derek."  
  
"A pleasure," Gil-galad said solemnly.  
  
"DO you ever smile?" Karen asked rudely.  
  
"Hey, Sivster," hollered Derek from beside the fridge, "mind if I grab a pop?"  
  
"Go ahead," Sivi replied easily. "Karen, would you like anything?"  
  
"No, if Joe's not here, I'm leaving. Come out to the car when you're done with that," she said to Derek, and left.  
  
"She won't let me have drinks in the new car," Derek explained. "So, can I hand either of you guys something while I'm over here?"  
  
"No, thank you. Erin, would you run upstairs and bring me the - uh - the backpack I left on the bed?" Sivi asked.  
  
Puzzled, Gil-galad darted up the stairs.  
  
"Listen, Derek, I didn't want to say this in front of Erin, but soft- drinks make him sick, so if you could not drink those in front of him, please, that would be great," Sivi said confidentially.  
  
"Sick?"  
  
"Yeah, like a little bit loopy, you know, kind of - kind of drunk."  
  
"That stinks. Yeah, sure, I'll, uh, remember that. Sorry."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Gil-galad called Sivi's name from the top of the stairs.  
  
"I'll be right back," she apologized.  
  
"Kind of drunk, huh?" Derek mused to himself when she had gone.  
  
A few minutes later, Gil-galad came down alone.  
  
"She's fixing the air-conditioner," he said by way of explanation, as Sivi had instructed.  
  
He did not say what was wrong with it: that he had accidentally turned it on maximum cold, and Sivi was trying to reprogram the buttons.  
  
"Yeah, well, let's have a drink between friends while she's gone," Derek said slyly.  
  
He pulled a Surge out of the fridge and handed it to Gil-galad.  
  
"Want to try a neat trick?" Derek asked when Gil-galad did not protest that he was not supposed to have soft-drinks (in fact, Gil-galad had not been told yet).  
  
Gil-galad nodded warily.  
  
"See, you take a knife," Derek explained, pulling one from the knife rack and taking the Elf's surge can, "and you poke a hole in the can like so. Right? Now take it, tip it up, and pop the top."  
  
Confused, Gil-galad did as he was bid.  
  
THE END  
  
Phe-Chan and I would like to thank all of our reviewers for their kindness and patience. If you enjoyed this fanfiction, please continue your verbal patronage with the "prequel to the sequel" to "Elven Dreams and Misadventures," which we have chosen to call "The Place to Be." The first chapter is scheduled to be posted next Tuesday (see story progress notes on author profile). 


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